Amaranth
by Aycelcus
Summary: Chapter 12 has finally arrived, after quite a bout with writer's block and work. I might manage to type up 13 in a few days if someone cares enough about this story to review. :) (SesshoumaruOC)
1. Cracks in a Stone

Amaranth   

By Aycelcus

Rating: R (for violence and sexual situations in later chapters)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha, its characters or likenesses. I am borrowing them for just a little while. Also, I do not own the Landers and any related characters. They belong to my best friend. I do own Cillara, her likeness and all things that pertain to her character. 

Author's Note: Well, here we go. I bitch and moan and complain and read fanfics like they are goin' out of style and write a million more in my head, but I've never actually reached THIS stage before: The first fanfiction that I ever post. And glory be, it's a frelling outside-character crossover. But it seemed to go over well with my beta, and I intend to do this without having to go way back into the history of the character or the story that she arrived from. I don't want that to be the focus of this story. The main idea is that she is almost as much of a mystery to you lovely readers as she is to poor ol' Fluffy, whom we can never really tell if he is under the influence of a spell or his own repressed hormones. Probably both, if you really sit down and think about it. Anyways, feel free to skip the A.N.'s at the tops and bottoms of my chapters, in my opinion any good story should read just as well without footnotes. They're there just for fun.      

Chapter One:  Cracks in a Stone

The wind was rustling the leaves overhead as Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands, walked the perimeter of his holdings. It swirled into little eddies of dust and fallen leaves that seemed to dance at the hem of the youkai lord's robes. However, the quiet beauty of the forest around him did not stir Sesshoumaru from his task. Something had breached the edge of his lands, something smelling of magic¾heavy and alien. Leaving the wind-borne leaves in his wake, he made his way to the caves along the eastern borders. Somewhere inside of the twisted passages was a thing that thrummed and pulsed, drawing his youkai blood to it with insistent purpose. What that purpose might be, Sesshoumaru could not guess.

He had to hurry, for other youkai would sense the thrumming thing and come to investigate. As the Lord of the Western Lands, it was his right, and his alone to possess or discard that which finds its way onto his lands.  

Right, then left he turned in the darkness. The darkness was so complete that even his youkai senses were hard put to compensate. He almost did not believe his eyes when the darkness began to take on a soft lavender hue. It lightened and lightened until the shadows were no longer shadows, until it was bright as day within the cavern he finally found himself in.  

Whatever Sesshoumaru had been expecting, it was nothing like what he found. For the source of the power that called to him was a large amethyst, and encased inside was a graceful mass of feathers and skin and hair. A woman, fine-boned and petit, seemed almost to float within her crystal casing. A pair of wings as large as her body jutted from her shoulder blades, and her hair was a fall of shadow, with fire-bright feathers peeking through along its length. 

Moments passed into moments as Sesshoumaru lost himself in curiosity. Little things began to jump out and puzzle him, small things that took his notice. For as fair as the woman was (and she was very fair,) he could see soft scars marring her translucent skin. Her feathers were tattered and torn, her small hands stained by what he could only guess was blood. And her face… her expression was one of profound sadness, such that he, (normally a remote and passionless being) could not comprehend. 

            Whether the pulsing power came from the woman, or the crystal, he could not tell. They were as one. And almost as if it had always been there, the desire to free the woman came to dominate his mind. When he would normally question such a single-minded devotion, this time he did not. All that he saw in that blinding moment was hued in purple. All that he heard was the rushing past his ears of some ancient magic, older and more foreign to him than ever he knew. 

            Within the familiar amaranthine she dreamed. Here within her last remaining refuge she drifted, her body frozen, her spirit lingering somewhere between the deep hollows of the shadow–world and the too-bright sharpness of consciousness. Between the dreams that would be nightmares, awareness would come upon her like a shy creature. In those brief lucid moments she could see they who came to the crystal's calling. She would watch their futile attempts to free her from her prison. Never were they successful, and never did she expect them to be. Her bindings were the final wish of a dying goddess, and no mortal man or mage could hope to break them. 

            And so she watched as this new contender began his battle with the last shard of a great castle. She watched dispassionately as he threw his might and strength against its sides, watched as he brought forth sword and talon to overtake her prison, and turned away as once again the crystal held fast. Perhaps soon she might dream again: dream her dreams of oblivion until she would awaken once more, a new land and a new time surrounding her. Very little touched her in her suspended world. It was far too much effort to drum up emotion for anything when all she had left was the mourning of her shattered world, the last few shreds of her universe drawn up around her to reside in the amaranthine at the wish of her Lady. She closed her mind's eye as the beautiful white-haired man spent his anger against the crystal shard.

            Sesshoumaru sagged against the crystal's unmarred face. Nothing he had tried had worked; the poison from his claws no proof against the smooth facets of the magic-strengthened amethyst. At one point he would have to concede. Not even _his_ will could break the woman from her encasement. Unbidden he turned to look at the ethereal features one last time, and his hand came up as if to brush away the hair from her face. As his palm slid softly across the crystal, something unexpected happened. Nearly imperceptible it was, but there under the pads of his fingers was a crack. It seemed to travel slowly from his fingers, splitting into many tributaries along the faceted surface. Deep the cracks began to run, until the entire crystal was veined with them. And then, as he backed away in surprise, the crystal shattered, a million little shards flying outward from the woman. No longer suspended within, the winged woman fell boneless to the ground.

            Not fast enough to catch her, Sesshoumaru reached her side as her body settled onto the floor of the cave. They were both covered in winking purple dust, the crystal seeming to disintegrate before his eyes. Never had the Lord seen such a thing; the magic that operated here in the cavern was not like that of his world.  

            The winged girl did not move, and he realized that she wasn't breathing. He reached forward, unsure in that moment whether he intended to pick her up or simply nudge her body. As his fingertips brushed against the pale, cool skin of her shoulder and down her ribcage, he felt the smallest of movements. A long, low breath, so soft and shallow that it mightn't have even happened swelled slowly against his hand. Another breath, then another followed it, until the woman's body warmed to the touch. Gently he rolled her over so that he might see her face. 

            Such a shock it was to feel again. She could feel the air on her skin, feel the ground against her side, feel the gentle touch brush her ribs. Long moments passed, and then her heart, still for so long, took one mighty leap inside her chest. Blood moved slowly in veins and arteries, her lungs expanded and filled and emptied again. All those little things that were life to a mortal body resumed their flow, one last miracle as her body resurrected itself under the waning magic of the amaranthine dust. She lay there, too weak yet to move, drinking in the feeling of living again.

            Perhaps she had lain there a moment, or perhaps an hour when she felt herself being moved. Gently she was rolled so that her face was no longer grinding into the rough ground. Her eyes fluttered open, her vision swam and then cleared into the achingly beautiful face of her liberator.

            Gold met gold as the girl's eyes came open. Sesshoumaru was taken aback by the intensity of them. Even confused and half-dead as she surely was, her eyes held something… indescribable. Now Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands, was a demon who chose his words carefully. He was unused to the feeling of utter speechlessness that had settled across his shoulders and clung to him like spider-silk with every passing moment in the presence of this strange winged woman. 

Out of pure instinct he brought his face close to her neck and sniffed, taking in her scent. He only faintly heard her draw her breath in as he did, so entranced was he by this new mystery. He had never before smelled anything quite like her. She was not of youkai-blood; he knew that in an instant. Nor was she human, although he thought she might have been at one time. Amidst the slightly spicy odor of her skin (like burning incense from a room away,) was the scent of blood and feathers and dragon-hide leather (creatures long since wiped from the face of his world.) In that instant he knew, he realized with the force almost like a blow that he intended to keep her. He would take her back to his fortress as his prize, this exotic bird of a woman, and she would give up her foreign secrets to him. His mind flew at great speeds, speculating what terrible secrets she might hold, what the nature of her magic might give him, what her skin smelled like when clean and perfumed, what her blood would taste like when she was angry or…

So deep was he that he nearly jumped at the soft sound of her voice. So close was he that her breath tickled his ear.

"It's not like I'm not grateful, but is there any particular reason why you are licking my neck?"

You know the drill. Read and Review. (Please.)

A.N.:   Oops. Dear Fluffy, whatever are you doing? Don't you know that it's in poor taste to neck on the first date? Also, let's not forget the fact that all but a few seconds ago, she was DEAD. Tsk.

            Also, before you trump off and flame me for this, let me say that Fluffy is NOT being OOC. Once again, Mr. Lord of the Western Dogpile is not out of character. He is bespelled. Trust me. I swear!  If you still feel the need to flame me, understand that if you say something like "Fix it! It sucks!" then I will not answer you. Be specific in your criticism, please, or it does none of us any damn good. The rest you who for some odd reason like to give nice reviews, thank you. 

            Important note… An amaranth is a purple flower that in Greek Mythology never fades. It represents immortality and eternal beauty. Nifty, ne? Thesauruses and dictionaries are beautiful things. Can you imagine how boring it would be for me to write the word `purple' over and over? Yuck. 

Next Chapter: Gee, no matter how depressed our resurrecting heroine is, she still has her razor wit. And no matter how bespelled our dear Fluffy may be, he's still Fluffy. See these two world champions go at it! Fluffy's Fortress of Solitude will never be the same… 


	2. That Which Does Not Fade

Amaranth   

By Aycelcus

Rating: R (for violence and sexual situations in later chapters)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha, it's characters or likenesses. I am borrowing them for just a little while. Also, I do not own the Landers and any related characters. They belong to my best friend. I do own Cillara, her likeness and all things that pertain to her character. 

A.N.: Okay, so here we are on chapter two. There isn't much to note here, except that I've never seen any episodes that show Fluffy's castle, so I am making this up as I go. A great deal is drawn upon other writer's ideas of how the inside might look, and if I reach a point where I think I am plagiarizing their ideas, I will try and remember who wrote what and make an annotation. If I screw up, or leave something out let me know. I'm going to try and make the interior as original as possible without compromising the story or the intrinsic nature of Sesshoumaru's character. 

Note Two: There will be no Rin saying, "Will you be my mommy?" in this fic. At all. It's become cliché', people. It's sweet, it's cute, but in this story, it's about as out of place as Kikkyo saying "I forgive you for everything, Inu Yasha, now go screw my reincarnation while I float down to Hell." See my point?

Note Three: It occurred to me that you may not know this yet, but this is set a few years after Naraku was defeated. No wait… don't run away… give it a chance!

Chapter Two: That Which Does Not Fade

            She did not expect Mr. Beautiful to lean forward and sniff delicately at her neck. She wasn't sure what she expected, but that wasn't it. Her breath hitched in her lungs as his own warmed the hairs at her throat. In that moment, she completely forgot her sorrow, forgot her dead Lady and her dead world. All she knew was that this man, this… striking creature of golden eyes and silver hair falling in rivers about him had his face buried at the juncture of her shoulder. Then she felt his tongue lick the skin there, gently and slowly like a puppy trying to comfort. 

            Every instinct of dealing with men came back to her, and before she quite knew what she was doing, she heard her voice (deep with disuse, but her voice, nonetheless.)

            "It's not like I'm not grateful, but is there any particular reason why you are licking my neck?"

The beautiful man pulled back as if stung. For one brief moment his face was mired by surprise, anger, and something… else. Then a mask of indifference, cool like glass, slid over his features. It was one that was obviously well practiced. A long moment followed as the two took measure of each other.

            He was tall, and well dressed in a heavily embroidered Japanese-style kimono. Over his breast was some sort of armor, and over his shoulder was some sort of giant fur stole. In combination with his paled skin marked by red and purple, and his silver hair streaming about him, the effect was perhaps the most exotic she had seen in quite some time. He was noble in his bearing, and arrogant in his cool way. Almost as an afterthought came the knowledge that he only had one arm. It seemed to contradict with the rest of his appearance.

            The moment grew longer and longer as Sesshoumaru studied the girl lying on the ground. This creature continually surprised him. Up until her voice had startled him out of his reverie, Sesshoumaru had no recollection of licking her neck. Sniffing, yes, that was standard practice (although not usually on the neck,) but actually tasting her? It seemed surreal to the youkai Lord. Mysteries within mysteries…

            It occurred to him in that moment that she had not moved or spoken since. Time was growing thin, and the cave they were in could just as easily become a grave if enough youkai came investigating. So with one smooth motion, he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, using his tail to steady her. She hung limply, like a rag doll, but she was not without weapons.

            "Hey! What the hell do you think you are doing?"

            He tightened his tail about her as a warning. He could feel the crinkle of feathers through his fur. The sensation was odd… but odder still was that it felt right. Very strange.

            "It is obvious that you are too weak to move, regardless of what your mouth implies. I suggest that you still even that. Others come, and quickly." With that he began to run. 

            He ran by feel. The purple light that had come off the woman's crystal cocoon was fading quickly. Faster and faster he ran, and his strange passenger did not speak again.

            _This has become surreal_, she thought as she swayed across his shoulder.  A hundred worlds and a hundred different encounters and still the multiverse had something new to show her. But the multiverse was down by one… and the tattered remains of her world only existed within her memories. How do you cry, how do you mourn a universe? She did not know how long she had floated in her dreams; could not count how many had tried to break her free as the crystal's insistence. Her sorrow was a tangible thing, drawn up about her. Its dust clouded her vision, closed her eyes and dried her tears. So here she found herself, her face buried in soft fur, too tired to move. 

            Time had been a fluid thing for her long before she had been suspended in amaranth. It flowed forward and backward, sometimes pausing around her as if the very stuff of the world was holding its breath. It had been a difficult thing, those days when first she became an avatar of her Lady. Eventually she had adapted, persevered. But her time sense was rusty from disuse, so she could not tell how long she had lain with her faced pressed into his shoulder before they came upon a fortress. She did not expect a young girl to come running out with a disgruntled… toad-thing…  in tow.

            "Sesshomaru-sama! Sesshoumaru-sama! You're back! Rin wondered where you went! You… brought back a… bird?" The girl, who could have been seven and could have been ten, (age and time are strange bedfellows), stopped short of "Sesshoumaru-sama" and stared in surprise. Sesshoumaru, in all fairness did not yell or snap at the child.

            "Rin, go inside. Tell the servants to prepare a bath. Jaken, go with her." The toad-thing looked uttered disgusted by the idea, but said nothing. He simply turned with his staff in hand while the child nodded, wide-eyed and confused, and ran back into the castle.

            She couldn't help herself, really. Two hundred something-odd years doesn't change a person all that much, and she had annoyed the best. So it wasn't surprising when she heard herself speak in a familiar, sarcastic tone. In fact, it felt like coming home…

            "Cute kid, Fluffy. I really didn't see you as the fatherly type. Must have been the mascara and the giant sword… let's pray that kid won't need therapy when she grows up." She managed to drum up enough energy to pull her face away from his shoulder, and cupped her chin on her palm. "Please, just don't tell me that disgusting frog is her brother. That's just nasty." 

            She heard a low growl and then the hand that had clamped her to his shoulder suddenly had the front of her bloody dragon-leather vest. Her legs swung as she hung from his grip. 

            "You will never address this Sesshoumaru in such a manner again."

            "Ugn…" Okay, stupid move. Let's insult our savior right out of the gate. Did she learn nothing from her Lady? And so she composed herself (as well as anyone can when hanging helpless from a stranger's grip) and spoke again.

            "I beg your pardon. I know not how to address you. There wasn't much of an introduction before you snatched and grabbed and ran like hell. So," and she saluted him smartly with a flick of her wrist as she gained more strength, " I am the Cillara De Santo, Avatar to the Lady Irene of… well I suppose that doesn't matter much now."

            He just stared at her. 

            "Oookaay. This is where you say back something like, `I'm Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Fortress of Solitude or whatever'."

            He dropped her. She really didn't have far to go, but her legs were still not cooperating, so she crumpled to the ground at his feet. 

            The last time anyone had spoken to Sesshoumaru thusly, it had been the miko wench that his half brother had taken to mate. It was a peculiar sensation not to be feared by someone, a sensation he had gotten used to with Rin and the miko, Kagome. He was still trying to process her introduction when she had spoken again, and although she demonstrated an acute knowledge of his name, the easy way in which she tossed it off into the wind shocked him to the point of dropping her. Before he had a chance to pick her back up and take her inside (his first and foremost intention, for the creature was a weak-limbed as she was out-spoken and smelled too strongly of blood and burned feathers) he heard her growl low in her throat. Quick as lightening then, and somehow the woman who could barely move had swept his feet out from under him. He hit hard in the dust and the grass, flashes of light burning behind his eyelids, and lay stunned for a moment beside the woman; two figures stretched out side by side like children watching clouds. 

            "There," she breathed beside him. "Now we are even."

A.N.: And Round one goes to….  Well it goes to the rain that is drowning my yard. Hopefully I will manage to make it to the library to update today.  

A.N.:  For those of you too young to know what this is, a stole is generally a thing of fabric or fur strewn across a wealthy lady's shoulders. Ex. A mink stole, a rabbit stole, a fox-fur stole. It was not uncommon (still isn't, I suppose) for those rich-type ladies to wear the dead animals complete with their heads and feet still attached. Some fashion statement. Less seamstressing, more taxidermy, please. I suppose I wouldn't have a problem if they actually ate the animals that they bastardized for fashion. Here, Lady Watterly, more roast mink? Come on, it doesn't smell THAT much like cooked ferret. 

^.^

I wrote this is class today, being that it was the first day and I have the same teacher fro all three of my science classes, and he covered the same damn syllabus crap each time. You may like it, and you may hate it. It's just one of the songs I have written about Cillara. I also draw her constantly, which is odd because my two main current projects outside of work and school are _Modern Thieves_, a graphic novel about space pirates and _Demented Little People_, a daily strip that I might get to publish if I ever frelling get web access at home! Neither one of these has anything to do with Cillara, but she has captured my fancy none the less.

_Queen of Wind and Dust_

_She dances and the wind comes to carry her away_

_Her memories are havens of dreams that couldn't stay_

_Scars upon her body mirror scars within her soul_

_Proof that damage takes its time and always takes its toll._

_She's lost and found_

_And turned around_

_Her Lady calls to bring her down._

_She fills her cup up to the brim; takes another drink_

_She wants to forget again, pull back from the brink_

_Ghosts and phantoms call her name; specters brush her cheeks_

_ They press their lips against her eyes and reach for what they seek._

_She's burned to ash_

_She's faced the lash_

_She's sacrificed to lovers past._

_She's walking mines and building shrines_

_To everything she ever knew_

_If you perchanced to steal a glance_

_Her eyes would all but bury you…_

_A wistful tune, a melody for those who never sleep_

_A dancer, she, who winds her way through waters dark and deep_

_So heaven strikes at broken walls, castles fall to rust_

_Still she stands within her halls, a queen of wind and dust._

_A crown of tusks_

_A staff of rust_

_She's but a queen of wind and dust._

Hell, if you like that, I might put a few more up later. Most are angsty and sad, but a few are pretty. I have the tune in my head, but Lady forbid I ever try and play it on the piano. I don't suck at piano, but on the other hand I don't exactly excel at it. That is what comes of trying to learn an instrument as a child when your talents lay (obviously) elsewhere. I'm sure those of you with recorders stashed in your closets as that last bastion of Middle School can attest to that. ~shudder~ a _recorder_. Ugh. 

One more note, although I'm sure most of you have gone away to do far more interesting things by now. There is a side story that I wrote and posted last week to this. It's humorous (I think so at least). Go read it if you like. It's called Fortress of Solicitude.  

Read and Review Onegai Shimasu!


	3. All the Things You Thought You Knew

Amaranth   

By Aycelcus

Rating: R (for violence and sexual situations in later chapters)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha, it's characters or likenesses. I am borrowing them for just a little while. Also, I do not own the Landers and any related characters. They belong to my best friend. I do own Cillara, her likeness and all things that pertain to her character. AKA.: Don't own, don't sue. 

Author's Note: Rin at nine is more mature than Rin at six, and I imagine the changes wrought within Sesshoumaru from the point he resurrected her with Tensaiga would perhaps lead them to this point. At this point, Sesshoumaru's hatred of humans has cooled into a passive dislike for _most_ humans. He still thinks his brother is the most unfortunate idiot hanyou to walk the earth, but as Inu Yasha and Kagome grew in that final battle with Naraku, so too did Sesshoumaru. All characters need to grow, or they become static and unbelievable. Obviously we all guessed that Sesshy wasn't evil, not in the classical sense. Rin proves it.

Chapter Three: All the Things You Thought You Knew

            Purple settled upon Sesshoumaru as he lay there beside the woman. It calmed his fury, soothed his shock. It brought with it a sense of warmth and feathers, for he had fallen near fully on top on one of her large, soft wings. He fought the sudden need to burrow deep, to inhale the dusky scent and bury his fingers within the down. A little voice at the back of his mind whispered that he was overtaken, that the spell that held him fast would be the death of him.

            "For now, we are even." He heard himself agreeing, and pulled up gently from the ground. "For now." Then he spoke no more, just wordlessly picked her up as if she weighed no more than a wish (she was light as a child, lighter than Rin, he thought.) Then he carried her inside to the waiting servants and the steaming bath, careful to not look at her face. She did not stir to answer, the last of her newly won strength expended. She let the servants remove her soiled garments, let them run soap and water over wounds too old to be so fresh. She didn't look at him, although he remained by her side the whole time. Rin stood off to the side, uncharacteristically silent as she watch the ablutions of the winged woman. 

            The servants were gentle and unobtrusive. They bandaged what they could. They perfumed her body with lavender oil, they brushed her hair and wings until the feathers dried and oiled them until they gleamed. Clever fingers cut into a kimono, keen hands robed her in the silk and tied ribbons to the neckline, until the garment covered her small frame and did not pull or bunch at her wings. Clips given to Rin appeared then, and soon her hair was carefully piled at the nape of her neck and fastened. 

            The whole process took the better part of two hours, but in the end, seated on a low-backed chair in the solar was a creature as unlike the crystal-born birdling as could be imagined. Her eyes were half-lidded and painted a soft purple, her hands relaxed over the lap of a simple, elegant black kimono (a sad holdover from the days when his mother had mourned her own parents.) A small sash of red and gold had replaced the obi, and soft slippers covered her small feet. Sesshoumaru was taken aback by the change. Armor and knives could never have graced this delicate form, (but he had the proof. Rin was still quietly counting the tiny daggers drawn from the folds of the woman's tattered armor.) Angry, sarcastic words could never fall from the lips of this lady, but Sesshoumaru knew that they had. Magic of such intensity should never pulse with such intensity and wrack her slight body, but even now it was there, thrumming just below the surface, promising things both wondrous and wild. Such an enigma, this birdling. Such a puzzle, she.

            It had been instinct, that flash of magic that burned from her fingers and caught the arrogant Lord unawares. So strong, and so painful it was. Like a wounded soldier bleeding too much, her magic was drained and weak. Like blood, its essence sustained her. It was deep in her cells, and it etched its way across her DNA in arcing patterns born of a goddess's will; it held her suspended in life, cursed to immortality in whatever form it could devise. Like the castle fallen around her and drawn into the crystal cocoon, the magic was almost sentient in its purpose. And like loss of blood, she needed to replenish her store of strength against the tide of time. So as instinctual as it was, it had been foolish to waste such precious power on the arrogance of a breathing marble statue.

            Afterwards, after the retort that had fallen unbidden from her lips she had lain limp and lifeless. She was unable to react, too tired to fight against the ebb and flow of servants with their skilled fingers and relentless ministrations. She did not protest  the presence of Sesshoumaru as she was bathed, did not question the company of his strange, human daughter. And although her fingers itched to hold her knives, and her skin cried at the lack of familiar dragon-hide, she did not try to dissuade either from being taken gently from her. She sat in the sun, under the windows of the great solar, and simply willed herself to be still and warm.  Eventually she drifted off, the yellow sun on her skin soaking in and diffusing into purple. 

            Sesshoumaru left the solar then; as the woman sleeping under the sun in the care of his trusted servants. He took Rin with him, and she held her questions until they had walked outside to the gardens.

            "Who is she, Sesshoumaru-sama? Is she youkai, like you?" The nine-year old asked, a rose rolling between her fingertips just inches away from sharp thorns.

            "No, this Sesshoumaru does not believe her to be youkai. Her name-" A flash then, and she was bright in his mind. _"I am the Cillara De Santo, Avatar to the Lady Irene of… well I suppose that doesn't matter much now."_

            "… Her name is Cillara, and I do not know  more than that."

            "Oh…" Rin began to gather flowers then, the habits of childhood soothing her. "You went to find her, didn't you? That is why you disappeared."

            Sesshoumaru understood what his human daughter was saying then, years of experience allowing him to read between her words. 

            "I could not leave her where I found her. She is dangerous in her potential."

            "She is sad." Fingers skillfully stripped the roses of their thorns. Rin did not say more.

            "… She is that." Sesshoumaru said, and then lapsed into silence. The pair walked companionably through the gardens, safe from prying eyes and philandering youkai, an odd partnership that managed nonetheless.

            Hours had gone by and night had fallen when she woke, still drowsy under the stars as she straightened in her chair. In the shadows next to her, draped lazily across another chaise was Sesshoumaru, his eyes glinting slightly in the low light as he stared at her. She wondered how long he had been there, watching her. He moved forward then, his face drifting into the light falling from the moon. Her hawk-sharp eyes pierced the darkness without difficulty, and his features were clear and bright in the soft, silver light. 

            "Now," he said conversationally. "Now, we talk."

            In the shadows on the other side of the half-world, a figure moved from its vigil. It watched as its quarry was awoken by the demon lord. Then it smiled cruelly in the darkness, and scuttled off to far away realms to seek its Master. The time had come at last, and the last child of Geneva would soon be but a memory. 

Dun dun dun dun! Read and review!

A.N.: Not as long as some, not as short as others, but my brain is fried anyways. Lessee here, I think it's becoming obvious that Fluffy knows that there is a spell on him of some sort. Anyways, I thought I might give you a quick back-story on Cillara DeSanto, just in case it never comes up fully in the story. The thing is, she will be a mystery to Sesshoumaru for much of the story, and she will be a mystery to us as well. But here are a few things that might come up:  Cillara DeSanto is an Avatar. What the hell is that, you ask? Basically, she is kind of a freelance angel (for lack of a better word) for her goddess (whom has a far closer relationship with her devotees than most religions devise today.) She didn't start out that way, she was a mortal mage long before she gained immortality at the hands of her Lady. But all things must come full circle, and older quarrels than we can know brought war upon the Gods of her realm, and they fell. In a last ditch effort to protect a shred of her beloved universe, the Lady Irene made her Avatar a sort of living memorial, and encased her in the shard of the living castle to sleep until long after the war was done. Kind of messed up, I know. Hope that helps (or didn't ruin anything.)

Also, in answer to Sayah, yes she is from the future, but not the same future as Kagome. The multiverse that she comes from is kinda like Sliders in the respect that universes are side by side. The Genevan universe runs on a different time than that of Inu Yasha. 

Azure Dragoness: I like it when they fight, too. ^.^  they don't argue in this chapter, but just you wait till the next one! Sesshoumaru is going to try and glean information out of his newest prize, and after napping, she's all perky again. So let us see how Round Two goes, eh?


	4. Down and Around the Rabbit Hole

Amaranth   

By Aycelcus

Rating: R (for violence and sexual situations in later chapters)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha, its characters or likenesses. I am borrowing them for just a little while. Also, I do not own the Landers and any related characters. They belong to my best friend. I do own Cillara, her likeness and all things that pertain to her character. AKA.: Don't own, don't sue. 

Author's Note: Lady Bright, this chapter's almost waffy. For some reason I just can't see them fighting all hell-bent in the dark, quiet hours of the evening. That's what daylight is for.

Chapter Four: Down and Around the Rabbit Hole

            The two figures faced off in the moonlight, the young-old birdling and the youkai Lord. Cillara sat there in the silence that pooled around his words. She had expected them, yes, although perhaps not phrased so bluntly. But part of her habit was the tendency to keep things behind her teeth, and she wasn't yet willing to divulge her life to a complete stranger.

            Then she noticed on the table beside Sesshoumaru shapes of things that stirred her interest. A moment later, the odors followed, and a stomach empty for centuries awoke and let itself be known.

            Cillara was cunning and clever and able to recognize such traits in her host. _He's bribing me with food_, she thought. As if her could hear her thoughts, he reached beside him and offered up a bowl of something savory to her.

            "Hungry?" He asked with a slight quirk of his eyebrow. And she was so very hungry. So the Avatar conceded, and took the bowl. Her fingers trembled, but to her credit, she did not bolt the rice down like a starving dog. She carefully handled her chopsticks, and Sesshoumaru watched her patiently.

            She was still hungry when the bowl was empty. 

            Sesshoumaru spoke softly as his hand found another dish. "You are the most puzzling thing to have wandered onto my lands, little bird. So what are you, and where did you come from?"

             Cillara did not answer for a moment. She simply took the dish from him, and looked at it in long confusion. It was made of… Styrofoam?

            "Ramen?" She blurted out, and then began to laugh in tiny little sobs. "Ramen. No electricity, no microwaves, but you have ramen. Where the hell have I found myself?" 

            Sesshoumaru smiled then, a small, tight movement of the lips that was almost indiscernible in the low glow of evening. She had inadvertently answered one of his questions. She must have come from the future, for that was where the "ramen" was from, brought back by his brother's miko wench. Still, he desired confirmation from her lips.

            "So you are from the future."

            Cillara looked at him in surprise then, her face going still and serious. 

"…" She looked back down to the cooling cup of noodles. "I… am from _a_ future, I suppose."  

"Explain."

She looked up then. "… How do I explain? I am from a different future than what will drive this world."

"I do not understand. How can a different future exist without changing this past?"

She shook her head, and then absently replied. "_There are more things on Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than can be explained by your philosophy_." 

Sesshoumaru growled. That was not an answer. But he did not press the issue. Instead, he turned to the other unanswered question.

"You are not youkai, and you are not human. What are you?"

"… I really don't have an answer to that. I am what I am."

"Earlier you said you were an "avatar". Do you rescind that statement?"

"No. In my case it is not a state of being, it is more of an occupation."

"Explain."

_I think I shall grow quite tired of that word_. Cillara sighed. "It's a job, it's what I do."

"What are you, then, if not an "avatar"?"

"I _am_ an av-" Then she rubbed her fingers across the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Look, humor me. What are you?"

"I am not being examined." 

"Just answer the damn question!"

"… I am youkai."

"Oookay. What is a youkai?"

"It is a…" And Sesshoumaru paused, searching for the right words. He found himself lacking any way to describe what he was. "It is youkai." He said lamely. 

"Exactly my point. Not all things can be explained. There just aren't the words to confine a definition. I am simply what I am. There are no others like me." _And there will never be any like me. Not now._

Sesshoumaru watched the woman for a moment. She had not touched the ramen. He gently moved the cup in her hand towards her. "Eat." He said, and she slowly began to eat again. He was silent a moment longer, and then spoke again.

"I concede to your point, little bird. You argue well enough, for now."

She snorted a little then. "I better have. I certainly have had the practice."

Quiescence fell then, a comfortable hush that lay between them.

Time passed as the moon waxed its slow way across the night sky. Finally the last of the provender that the youkai had laid out had made its way into the belly of the bird woman, and she sighed in contentment.

"You know," she said, the thought coming to her like a sudden rain, "You never really told me your name."

He realized the truth of her words. And so his voice whispered into the air.

"Sesshoumaru."

 No Lord of the Western Lands, no title, no nothing. There in the tranquility of the solar it didn't seem important. There in the soft amaranthine light that touched her skin the normal way of things faded into the shadows. _Tomorrow_, he thought. _Tomorrow, I shall ask her what spell she has wrought on me. Tomorrow, when the sun is bright and the day is sharp_.    

"Hn." Came her replay, and then a small bright chuckle rippled around her face. "I think I prefer `Fluffy'." 

"And I think I could deny you your next meal." He retorted easily. She smiled at him.

"Fair enough."

The day dawned bright and sharp enough to suit even Sesshoumaru. It sent bright rays of light across the room where Cillara awoke. Though it had been late when finally she had been shown to a room down the hall from the solar, she slept soundly and woke early. By the yellow light of dawn she could clearly see her chamber, soft and feminine with scrolls and tapestries lining the walls in gentle floral patterns. Perhaps not the décor she would have chosen herself, but she appreciated its fine beauty. 

A day and night of real sleep, and a little food had revived her physical energy considerably, and she managed to dress and groom herself with only a little difficulty. The servants were blessedly absent. Cillara never had been comfortable with being served by someone, the deference offered and the quiet subordination never sitting quite well with her. 

She found her way to the dining room by smell. Her fingers trailing across the rough granite and the smooth marble, she paused in the entranceway. She was unaware of the picture she made, her small form framed by feathers and stone. She was, however, aware that the room's other occupants were staring at her.

"I'm sorry," she said self-consciously as she averted her eyes from the youkai lord and the young human girl. "I would not have been late to breakfast, but I think I was allowed to sleep late." Then she cleared her throat and walked over to Rin.

"I don't think that we were ever introduced. My name is Cillara," and she held out her hand for Rin to shake it.

Rin, who had never shaken a hand in her life and was utterly unfamiliar with the gesture, simply bowed a little in respect. "I am Rin."

"Nice to meet you, Rin. I apologize if I startled you yesterday, I wasn't at my best."

Rin smiled. "You didn't frighten Rin. I'm glad you are feeling better."

Sesshoumaru watched this little exchange wordlessly. He honestly had not expected Cillara to wake so early, or even be able to stand. He had left strict orders with the servants not to disturb her.

Cillara had tread carefully when she had come into the room, he noticed, and she was still a little shaky on her feet. That did not stop her, however, from flopping gracelessly into a chair beside Rin, (too far away from him, he thought) and exclaiming, "Mmmmm! Breakfast smells good! What are we having?"

 He had no idea how she managed it. One moment she was quiet and gentle as a dove, and the next she was a raucous as an old crow. And how she kept from sitting on her wings after falling into a high-backed chair was beyond him. He could only assume that she was well-practiced. He watched her enthusiastically serve herself, completely unmindful of the servants who were at a loss as to dealing with such manners. At that moment, she reminded him so much of when Rin was little. It almost hurt to look at her. So while he did not want to stem her liveliness, he could not stop himself from commenting acidly.

"You act as you were born in a barn like a peasant. If you cannot behave as a Lady, I will not hesitate to ban you from this table."

He could see in her eyes that his coldness had hurt. He hated to watch her fade and crouch into herself. But Cillara, he was coming to realize, was not one to slink defeated back to her corner like a beaten puppy. 

She glared at him sharply. "Well good fucking morning to you, too. Wake up on the wrong side of the futon?" Then she stood up, gathering bowls with her as she went. "If you want to ban me from the table, fine. I know where the kitchen is. I shall go eat in the solar where I won't bother your Royal Fluffiness." Then she strode out of the room, pausing only once to smile quickly and warmly at Rin. "It was nice to meet you." Then she disappeared, feathers, food, and all.

Rin could only stare at where she had been while Sesshoumaru burned with fury.

A.N.: I know the Shakespeare quote isn't quite right. So does Cillara. She doesn't care.

A.N. Two: Yeeash. Sesshy and Cillara sure are TOUCHY. And they were doing so well, too. 

Note on MarySues: I didn't really know what a MarySue fic was before I published Amaranth, and now that I know I think I figured out how this one escaped such censure. Cillara DeSanto is a character that I have had for something close to five years now. She started out as me in my best friend's epic, but took on such a life of her own that as Cillara she is quite divorced from the original character (me.) Stephen King noted in his book  _Bag of Bones that any character in a book or story is but a bag of bones compared to real life, but I've noticed sometimes characters can get away from you and start to live on their own a little bit. (Eg. Anyone notice the occurrence of the references to Flagg in SK's books? I have yet to find one that doesn't have a Flagg, either as a character or a street name or… well you get the idea.) I have read a few fanfictions that have also escaped MarySueism, in fact I have one on my Favorites List. So long live those to dare to OC or self-insert. May their anti-MarySue amulets work long and true._


	5. Words Will Fall

Amaranth   

By Aycelcus

Rating: R (for violence and sexual situations in later chapters)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha, its characters or likenesses. I am borrowing them for just a little while. Also, I do not own the Landers and any related characters. They belong to my best friend. I do own Cillara, her likeness and all things that pertain to her character. AKA.: Don't own, don't sue. 

Author's Note: … Well, I do believe we are primed for the fight of the century here at the crux of Chapter Five, ne? All the elements are there: Fluffy is pissed extreme, Bird-girl is getting back to her snappy snazzy self, and daylight is nigh and high and awfully frelling bright. And only on the second day of meeting, too! Very nice. 

Chapter Five: Words Will Fall

            He found her in the solar as she had said, with an uneaten bowl of rice in her hand. She was sitting off to the side, the morning sun slanting across her face and lighting her hair afire. She did not move when he stalked in, claws open and anger palpable. She did not even seem to notice him as he stood above her, ready to strike at the source of his agitation. But seconds ticked by, and despite the hot, urgent need to rend the woman into unrecognizable shreds for daring to defy him, he did nothing. He just stood poised over her, shaking in his fury. 

            A breaking point was reached, and with a growl of frustration he turned and threw a nearby chair across the solar. It shattered upon impact with the far wall.

            "It is the amaranth." Her voice broke through the sudden silence and he turned back to her. This time he managed to grab her by the shoulder and force her upwards, until she was standing small in front of him, her face mere inches from his armored chest. She looked up at him, her eyes sharp.

            "What have you done to me, woman?" He snarled at her. "_What spell is this_?"

            Her eyes flickered slightly. "I have done nothing. It is the amaranth. It… protects me." 

            He leaned closer, so close that his breath was on her face. "Explain!" 

            "I can't!" She protested. "I did not make the spell which held me! I am no goddess to be so strong!" And she tried then to twist away from his eyes and his grasp. His grip tightened, and she hissed in pain.

            "Explain!"

            "I can't! Let me go, you bastard! I did not want to be awakened any more than you wanted to awaken me!"    

            "_Explain_!"

            Suddenly there was a spill of syllables, bright and musical; a fall of words in a language that he could not recognize. Then she brought her gaze back to his eyes. Her face was fevered. "They are all dead!" She snarled back at him. "Everyone I ever knew! And I was not allowed to go with them! I have no more control over this than you. Now let go of me, or I will not hesitate to burn holes into that pretty armor you wear!" Her voice had gone deadly soft, then, and Sesshoumaru recognized the threat as real. His fingers relaxed, and she wormed out of his grasp.

            "You wish for death." He spoke then. It was not a question.

            "I cannot die." She answered back. "A gift that has imprisoned me. A million years will go by and I will still be here, a shrine to something long destroyed." 

            "But you have magic. I can smell it in your blood, strong like a miko's blood."

            She was not looking at him then, but down at a faded scar that traced its way across her slim forearm. "…I am weak now. My slumber has taken my strength from me. But even at full strength I am bound by my immortality. I am a scar that will never fade."

            He did not know what possessed him next. Perhaps it was a need to distract the bird-child from such a sad fate. 

             "You are a rude scar."

            Her eyebrow arched. "Me?" She said incredulously. "I'm rude? This said from a man who licked my neck before introducing himself?"

            The mention of his actions unnerved him a little. "That was… unintentional."

            "You must get slapped a lot on your dates, I imagine."

            "Dates?"

            "Never bloody mind." The she raked a hand through her feathered hair. A pin fell to the floor. She started to pick it up, but Sesshoumaru's fingers found it first.

            "Ah, damn." She cursed. "I don't know how many of those things were put in my hair yesterday. They just keep appearing. It's a wonder I don't have a pincushion for a head by now—"

            Her voice died in her throat as Sesshoumaru found his fingers pulling a lock of her hair from her face. Electricity seemed to spark in their tips as he deftly pinned the soft filaments out of her eyes. Her golden gaze regarded him in confusion. He spoke then only to break the tension.

            "We have guests coming soon. I would ask that you be presentable and conduct yourself with poise and tact. If you can manage to behave, then you are welcome back at the table."

            "Still bribing me with food, I see." She commented archly.

            "I am not bribing you. As I recall, you know where the kitchen is."

            She grinned cockily. Then the corners of her mouth turned down and she cleared her throat.

"… You have to realize, Sesshoumaru, that I am not a great and mannered Lady. I normally don't do servants and I hate formality. You seem to want to call a truce, and I support that idea. I am sure that your daughter thinks that you have killed me by now, and murder tends to make a house uneasy. But I will probably screw up something. I will put my foot in my mouth somehow. It's pretty much a daily thing for me anyways. All I ask this: I will be as lady-like as possible if you are as patient and understanding as possible. I won't be submissive, but I'll try to be respectful. Deal?"

His fingers were still buried in her hair, and it was hard for him to think. He was finding it as difficult to stay angry with Cillara as it was easy for him to become angry with her in the first place. She seemed to entice extremes out of everything that surrounded her. So he gently pulled away, claws softy brushing her cheek as he turned. 

"We have an arrangement, then. Come, breakfast is still waiting."

Cillara saw Rin's surprise when she followed Sesshoumaru back into the dining room. She smiled a little at her in reassurance, and sat quietly while the castle servants served her as if nothing had happened. 

She thought while she ate. 

She thought about her situation, she thought about her grief, but mostly she thought about her enigmatic host. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, tall and regal. His cool mask was in place, and he was beautiful. 

She was no young virgin to be unaware of how he affected her. She had felt the sparks where he had touched her. She also knew that he was most certainly being manipulated by the amaranth in her favor. He had admitted as much that his behavior was not normal. That made her very disinclined to ever act on the feelings that made her knees weak. 

_Damnit_, she thought. _I'm too bloody old for this. It is always the arrogant ones. And they all have a tendency to die on me_.  She forced herself to eat what was put in front of her, and tried not to think any more.

Early afternoon saw them all in the gardens. Cillara and Rin were walking and talking while Sesshoumaru stood off to the side. Jaken had come and gone, busily preparing for the visitors that Cillara did not know the identity of. 

"So, Rin, your father tells me that there are people coming to visit." Cillara ventured as they wandered through the flowers and trees."

Rin giggled then. "Sesshoumaru-sama isn't me father. He takes care of me." Then she leaned in conspiratorially. "He doesn't like people to know he's a softie." She whispered. "So don't say anything."

"I promise. My lips are sealed." Cillara smiled.

"It's time for Inu Yasha and Kagome to come, that's who's visiting. They'll be bringing Shippou an' the twins, too!" Rin glowed with anticipation.

"Inu Yasha?" Cillara was perplexed.

"Yeah. Sesshoumaru-sama's little brother. They don't really like each other, but they get along cuz Kagome wants it." 

"And Kagome is?" Cillara prompted.

"Kagome is Inu Yasha's mate. She's a powerful miko. And," Rin leaned in again. "She's from the future!" 

_Really_, Cillara thought then. _So that's where the ramen came from. Curious. _

"Rin." Sesshoumaru's voice cut through the whispered conversation. Rin had the grace to look ashamed, but when he turned away she flashed a smile to Cillara, who returned it by sticking out her tongue at the youkai lord's retreating back. 

The wind was gentle as it ruffled her feathers, and Cillara stretched her wings out behind her. Physically she was not strong enough to leap into the air and fly, so she just stood there a moment, letting little currents and eddies flow through her primaries. Sesshoumaru turned back at that moment to call her and Rin back to him, for he had scented his brother and it was time to go be social (as much as he detested it. The things he did for Rin…) But he was caught and captured by the sight before him. Rin had paused as well, and for a long moment they both just marveled at the vision before them.

The moment was too long, for suddenly behind them came an acerbic voice.

"Feh, brother. Where did you get her? Did you let Tensaiga resurrect another stray?"

The voice startled Cillara, who dropped her wings with an expression like she had been caught with her hand in a cookie jar. Then she heard a strong female voice ring out a single command.

"Oswari!"

THUD.

"That was rude, Inu Yasha!" 

Cillara turned to see a petite woman stride over to her. In the background a silver-haired man was picking himself up off the ground. A young boy with a foxtail was poking him while two little white-haired toddlers giggled. 

The woman held out a hand in greeting. "Hi, I'm Kagome. I apologize for Inu Yasha's smart mouth. I'm still working on that." Cillara reached out to shake Kagome's hand as she tried to take the sight of her in. Kagome wore priestess robes like the miko that Rin had said she was, but strapped on to her back was a battered yellow pack that was zippered shut. This was the woman from the future. At her neck was a small bead, and it pulsed to Cillara's mage-sight like a miniature sun.  

"My name is Cillara." She said, and the visit with Sesshoumaru's extended family began in earnest. 

A.N.: Okay, so it wasn't really a fight. Not a crazy one. But the question here is: How much of what Sesshoumaru feels is the amaranth? Spells are tricky things, you see, and she only said that it protected her. I suppose we will only know once the days pass and the amaranth begins to fade. Besides, this is a romance. I'm feeling romantic. Come here and gimme a smooch.

Also: You may have noticed, or you may have not. There hasn't really been any interaction b/w Cillara and Jaken here. You'd think that he'd have already said something mean and nasty to her. Lets just say he's been busy, ne? It's true. Besides, Cillara would probably squash him beyond all recognition. Or turn him into a pincushion. Maybe she still will. All those who want to see C turn Toadie into a pincushion raise your hands!


	6. Entropy

Amaranth   

By Aycelcus

Rating: R (for violence and sexual situations in later chapters)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha, its characters or likenesses. I am borrowing them for just a little while. Also, I do not own the Landers and any related characters. They belong to my best friend. I do own Cillara, her likeness and all things that pertain to her character. AKA: Don't own, don't sue.

Author's Note: I will be at Dragon Con this weekend! Yaaaaay! Sugoi desu ne! And this year they have a dedicated anime track. Rock the casbah, baby. So… um… don't expect an update till sometime next week. It'll take me that long to recover from four days of bliss. But please, review! I only got one reviewer for the last two chapters. We were doing so well! Tell me if you like it, tell me if you hate it, threaten me with another Spatula of Death! And I will keep on updating! Deal? Deal!

Chapter Six: Entropy

            It used to amaze Cillara, back when she was young and the worlds were new, how quickly you could become used to a place and time. Only a few days had passed from the time she had been resurrected yet she felt comfortable and secure in the rhythms of the fortress. Part of it, she was certain, had to do with the miko Kagome, who seemed utterly determined that Cillara should feel welcome despite the fact that it wasn't even Kagome's home. But she supposed that Sesshoumaru's extended family visited often, and the dynamics between them all were worn smooth with time. 

            Sesshoumaru and Inu Yasha had been gone for most of the visit; for Sesshoumaru as the Lord of the Western Lands (Cillara finally was told his title. She still preferred Fluffy, Lord of the Fortress of Solitude, though. And when she told Kagome that, the poor woman had fallen over laughing, her face gone red and tears streaming from her eyes,) had council duties that often took his time and presence away from the fortress. He and Inu Yasha were off meeting the Council of the youkai lords. Despite Inu Yasha's half-breed heritage, after the Naraku incident had had found himself a fringe member of the Council. It was his blood as the second son of the Taiyoukai that finally won him a coveted (by everyone but Inu Yasha) spot amongst the lords. 

 It was odd how the half-brothers managed in the warmth of the family unit and the pressures of the Council. From what Cillara understood, much of their relationship prior to Naraku's fall involved attempted fratricide. She learned from Kagome that one of their battles had led to the loss of Sesshoumaru's left arm. 

She learned much from Kagome in those few days. They would talk as they walked through the gardens and sat in the solar to watch the children play. The two twins, named Shiroi and Kuroi, were little bundles of three-year-old hanyou energy as they ran and tried to keep up with Rin and Shippou. The four would wrestle and play hide-and-seek and invent countless other little games that were formless and changing in their rules. 

Cillara basked in the environment, the friendliness and affection that laid over everything that the family did. Even Sesshoumaru would perk up and crack his shell when confronted by a tiny hand full of fireflies or a soft furry ear pressed against his side as one of the twins invariably snuggled into his lap at night when his attentions were turned. His face would not change, but she would see hand reach out to examine the proffered insect or his fingers start to stroke the baby's forehead. It was… sweet. It made her feel warm and sad at the same time. It reminded her of other toddler's hands, other figures snuggled close. It reminded her that life went on. 

It was nearing twilight on the fifth day, the afternoon winding late and the amber sun slowly changing hues as it descended into pinks and oranges. Sesshoumaru and Inu Yasha had just arrived, and many joyous greetings were proclaimed by the children. Inu Yasha and Kagome managed to snatch a few private moments somewhere in between one twin jumping on Sesshoumaru and the other gleefully embracing his leg. Cillara watched with a small smile as Sesshoumaru looked at her with endless annoyance. But he was patient and gentle with them, and they settled down with little trouble.

They were still gathered out in the gardens, only a moment or two from walking inside to eat and rest and enjoy the evening. Cillara walked beside Sesshoumaru, finding herself happy to see him home. It was a nice, domestic kind of feeling, one she had not felt in a long time. So she strolled beside him, pausing once to pick up little Shiroi and swing him around as requested. Kuroi insisted on riding on Sesshoumaru's shoulders, and he indulged her for a moment. Kagome and Inu Yasha were leisurely strolling up the walk; Shippou and Rin were giggling and dancing beside them. Everything seemed perfect.

Until a sickening lurch took Cillara by surprise. 

She knew the feeling that surged against her, the familiar tide of nausea and dizziness that always accompanied the opening of a gateway. Someone had just walked through a dimensional portal. Someone strong, like an avatar… or a god.

She didn't even realize that she had dropped to the ground until she felt a strong hand grip her. She heard nothing but blood roaring in her ears until she heard Sesshoumaru's voice.

She certainly did not hear her own voice as it cried out a mournful string of soft syllables.

But Sesshoumaru's touch and voice were akin to a cold wash against her, and she came to her senses curled up at his side, his arm embracing her. She could feel Kagome's hands on the bare skin of her wrist; feel the brush of power as it tentatively probed her for injuries.  

A little light snapped on in her head, and habits old came rushing out of their hidey-holes. Cillara stood up, managing to brush away Kagome's inquiring touch and the children's plaintive queries. She almost managed to brush off Sesshoumaru, too, but his grip held firm in a manner that suggested he wasn't going to let go unless he got some answers. And perhaps even then he might not relinquish her. 

"I'm fine, I'm okay; I was just a little dizzy." She muttered. Her hands were shaking. Kagome shook her head.

"You are as white as a ghost."

Cillara felt like a ghost. "I'm alright, I'm alright. I probably just need to sit down."

She could feel a dragon in the pit of her stomach, a cold fear with fluttery leather wings and a malignant smile. She knew that whomever had crossed over into Sesshoumaru's world would not be friendly. She only prayed to her long-dead goddess that…   She couldn't even think about the possibility. She had to get away, lead it away from those she had come to care about. And she was weak enough that just running off wouldn't be feasible. Sesshoumaru and Inu Yasha both could catch her in a breath. Even the little hanyou twins could outrun her if they chose. She would have to sneak away with the fall of night.

All these thought were zooming double-time through her mind. She looked up to speak again, but was cut off. Sesshoumaru's face suddenly dominated her field of view.

"You are not all right."

And then, without ceremony, he picked her up. Once again she found herself helpless, thrown over his shoulder and surrounded by his soft tail.

"We shall go inside, and you shall tell this Sesshoumaru the truth of what is wrong."

Cillara buried her face in his tail as the dragon stirred. 

Sesshoumaru did not feel fear. He told himself every day, and so far it had rung true. But when Cillara had collapsed into herself without warning or cause, he felt a prick of fear stab him. She had gone so pale. He had expected her to faint at his feet when she shakily picked herself up. 

She had lied. He knew that whatever had caused her to collapse was very, very bad. He knew that she was afraid. He could smell her fear thick on the breeze. He could feel his own response, a deep and rumbling anger directed outward toward whatever had caused her fear. And some part of him was angry with her, angry for the secrets she held so dear. He had little doubt that one of those secrets had come to rear its ugly head.

She had little reason to trust him, he knew. Only a few short days had engendered their acquaintance, and despite the idea that every action he took was caused by a spell, he realized that he needed her to trust him. If not for his sake, then for hers. 

Without having to be asked, Kagome ushered his brother and the children towards the kitchen as he made his way back to the solar. It was familiar territory, and he hoped that it would perhaps help to lessen Cillara's fear. There in the confines of the small, glassed-in room her fear stunk sharply.

He set her down gently on a duvet, and stood for a moment to see if she would speak first. 

Surprisingly, she did.

"I can't forget." Tears were at her eyes. "I can't forget, and I cannot stay."

He waited, still in the gathering darkness. She looked up at him.

"I want to forget so badly! I don't want to remember such terrible things! I don't want to be so afraid!"

He surprised himself then.

"I don't want you to go away."

Her face was unreadable for a long moment. Then she reached up and cupped the side of his face.

"I wish I could explain everything to you. I wish that I could forget and have everything just like it has been. I wish…"

She hugged him then, her free arm snaking around his waist and her forehead pressing against his chest. 

He couldn't breathe. He was surrounded in feathers, encased by something sweet and indefinable. He crushed her to him then, a field of purple and down.

Her face came up then, so very close to him. He could hear her say something in that lyrical language of hers.

"Help me forget," she whispered then, and brought her mouth to his. 

A.N.:   Ahhhh!!! WAFF alert! Danger, Danger! 

            Okay, seriously. Here is where the story begins to pick up. Also, next chapter will be a little citrusy, so all you hentais who have been waiting with baited breath will get your little taste of lemon. But nothing hard-core. I don't think I could write something that lemony… 

A.N. Two: Can anyone tell me what entropy means? You'll get ten points. I bet if you can you can tell I'm writing this in my boring biology class, ne? 


	7. Passion Cry

Amaranth   

By Aycelcus

Rating: R (for violence and sexual situations in later chapters)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha, its characters or likenesses. I am borrowing them for just a little while. Also, I do not own the Landers and any related characters. They belong to my best friend. I do own Cillara, her likeness and all things that pertain to her character. AKA: Don't own; don't sue.

Author's Note: Thank you, Lemon Crush, for playing the game. Yes, I suppose it would be the second definition I was after. Actually I lied without meaning to. It was not biology that gave me the term; it was eco sciences. In my book it defines entropy as "the tendency of all natural systems to go from a state of order to chaos." Just like this fic. Also, in response to your question, I looked up exhibitionism in the dictionary just for fun, and it said that was it acting as to attract attention. Now I think, and this is only a theory considering what I know of you consists of electronic data and pixels on a screen, that you might just be referring to the _other _definition. The one not given in my _American Heritage_ dictionary with the dog-ears and the cola stain where I wasn't paying attention as I did my homework. Am I right? 

By the way, you do get your ten points. How would you like to spend them?

Everyone else: Just a quick reminder. This is the citrus chapter. Those of you too young to be reading this better make sure no adults are walking past your room right now. I'm certainly not going to try and dissuade you. We all know what a waste of typing energy that would be. It's been rated R from the start. You knew that. I knew that. On with the chapter (drink your kool-aid and follow me.)

Chapter Seven: Passion Cry

_Sittin' in a park in the middle of the night_

_Trying to reason what is wrong from what is right_

_I am only as you see me_

_I am lonely till you free me_

_I am a passion cry._

From _Strangers in __Paradise_ by Terry Moore

            Sesshoumaru was drowning in purple. So unexpected was the feel of her against his mouth. Her hands moved along his neck and waist in restless and roaming patterns. Just before his eyes fell shut he swore he could see the amaranth still glittering somewhere beneath her skin. It blinded him.

            He wanted this more than anything. He needed Cillara. He needed to possess her, to know her. The very thought that she had drawn herself to him was almost beyond comprehension. She had control over him, a thin thread of dominion that blossomed in the moment when she had reached across to close the smallest distance between them, her eyes shadowed and blurred by tears. He could smell her sharply as her skin came close to his nose. It enveloped him; he inhaled deeply and was overwhelmed by spice and soft musk, feathers and salt, desire and despair.

            It was not in his nature to be submissive to anyone's will. So perhaps when it started, as Cillara leaned in to take him by surprise, perhaps then she held the reins. But not for long.

            A deep growl rumbled in his throat as his arm that pinned her close tried to pull her even closer, to bridge the very gap in their molecules, even. He felt her hiss against his lips and pull away. 

            Her eyes bored into him for a long moment, and he allowed her scrutiny. Then she scrunched up her little nose. One of her hands snaked down from the back of his neck to rub at a spot near her collarbone. He understood then, in a flash of sudden insight that the spikes in his armor had been impeding his progress. She frowned then, and with her nose all wrinkled she was very endearing in her annoyance.

            "This armor has got to go." And somehow her other hand managed to find the clasp at his side. He felt it click, and then loosen. He did not stop her as she pulled the cool metal away. It clattered on the floor at their feet.

            Then she looked at him again. Her quicksilver face had gone silent and serious, the tear streaks dried and forgotten. She spoke softly into the quiet surrounding them.

            "I do not have the right to this," she said. "Only if you want this. Only if you want me—"

            He descended then, with no armor to hinder him and the smell of feathers in his nostrils.

            Thought was replaced by sensation as he brought his heated breath to her skin. His tail moved from its perch on his shoulder to wrap around her body and wings as his hand followed his mouth down her neck to the juncture of her shoulder. His body and tail held her still as he deliberately dragged his tongue over the soft skin there. This time he was totally aware of what he was doing, and this time she did not voice sarcastic comments, only a low, sexy little moan. _Help me forget_, she had said. _Help me forget_. She would remember nothing but him. His teeth sank deep and her blood, heavy with iron and something he could not identify, filled his mouth. She shuddered, sharp fingernails grazing the delicate skin at his nape as she groaned.

            He kissed her mouth again so she could taste her own blood on his lips and know that he had taken her into him. Then he brushed against her temple as his hand started to push aside the folds of her kimono, his fingers tugging at the ribbons at the juncture of her wings and her shoulder blades.

            His own breath halted as her lips found one of the scratches on his neck and her tiny little teeth gently broke the skin there. He felt her tongue touch his wound with care. She kissed him there, and pulled back with a little grin playing about her reddened lips. 

            "You bite me, I bite you. It's only fair."

            He said nothing to her comment, only reached down towards her mouth again with his own as his fingers finally managed to release the fragile ribbons. He didn't have to say anything; she had accepted. Whether or not she knew what ritual was taking place here in the twilight of the solarium did not matter. She was his now, and he was hers. It was the only conclusion that could have come about. It had been building since the very moment he first sensed her sleeping presence at the borders of his land. It was writ in amaranth and the blood of demons. Sense and reason were secondary. Welcome to the jungle.

            Sesshoumaru deftly tugged at her kimono so that it exposed her shoulders, and then fell past her breasts. He let his hands roam over her, let his mouth follow in their wake until Cillara was moaning again. He did not pause as she pulled at his own clothing, determined to pay back the favor. Soon, clever hands had managed to leave him in his haori pants alone, while she stood in a puddle of silk, her naked skin gleaming pale in the moonlight. He could see the silvered lines of old scars as they ran across her belly and crossed her arms and thighs. He reached down to kiss them, as if to make them disappear.

            She giggled then, a light breathless sound that spilled from her mouth as he touched a sensitive spot along her side. Then she hooked a finger in the tie that closed the waist of his haori pants. "It is really not fair for me to be the only nudist here." She said with a wicked little smile, and tugged gently. The silk whispered once across his skin as it fell down his legs to mirror the soft bundle at her feet. "Much better," she said appreciatively as she took her time admiring his form. Then she took his hand in hers, and pulled him slowly down with her onto the duvet.

            Her fingers were bold, and he managed to clasp them in his tail. If she kept on, he would certainly not be able to continue the way he intended to continue. It was his intention that she be swept away, that any trace of sadness left in her eyes be burned in their wake, that she be possessed fully by him. To emphasis this, he traced a path of fire down her body, hovering in the hollow between her breasts, dipping from her navel, delving into the shadowed region between her thighs. He continued as she writhed beneath him, her fingers twisting and entwining in the silken fur of his tail, more words in that unknown language falling from her lips. He kissed her mouth then, to capture them. 

            She wriggled out of his grasp like an eel, and started her own retribution, beginning at the corners of his eyes just slightly above his demon markings and continuing down, making stops along the way to kiss the spot where his left arm ended, and to touch softly the lines of every scar. It was her way of showing her quiet acceptance of him, his flaws and his beauty. She managed to keep his hand and tail away long enough, pinning him with her strong wings, to make him sweat and shiver above her until he growled and his eyes tinged red and he brushed aside her questing fingers. He pressed against her and she welcomed him in with a soft little sigh as the moon rose high above them, making sweat-covered skin gleam silver and purple.

            It was late in the evening when Kagome and Inu Yasha made it to the room down the hall from the children's nursery. The night had been quiet, and they had taken care of the little ones and put them to bed. Sesshoumaru and Cillara never showed up for dinner, and although Kagome and Inu Yasha were both worried, they did not go searching for them. 

            As they lay there entwined in the dark, Inu Yasha's fingers brushing through Kagome's hair in a familiar manner, Kagome spoke.

            "You know your brother is in love with Cillara."

            Inu Yasha grunted a little. "I don't think he knows that. But I am surprised. They hardly know each other."

            "I know. But time doesn't really matter when you get down to the core of things. But I'm worried. Something is very wrong with her, something bad. I think that she's in danger, or feels she is in danger."

            Inu Yasha was silent for a moment. "When we were traveling to the Council, it seemed that when he didn't brood, he spoke of her. If she is in danger, he will not let her come to harm. Despite what he'd like to believe, he's too much like father not to."

            "…"

            Inu Yasha could hear the hesitation in the pattern of her breathing. "What?" he asked.

            "Do you think we should pretend to be surprised tomorrow when they come down with neck markings?"

            Kagome felt Inu Yasha's chuckle bubble up through his chest.

            The two lay sleeping, entwined on the duvet as the moon descended. There in the darkness was a glitter of amaranth. Suddenly the pair began to glow a faint purple. It winked once, and then released its hold on the slumbering pair and sank back into the wings of the woman, to sleep until desperation called out its magic again. Its purpose, for now, was complete.

A.N.: So now the first citrus chapter is complete! Yay! And I managed not to use the phrase "throbbing member" or any other of the thousand kazillion romance novel clichés out there. Not that I probably didn't use any clichés, after all the romance area has been ruthlessly plundered over the years, inundated with saucy, bawdy tales of soft-core juiciness.  Hell, I'm aware that mine was practically tame, in comparison. But it works for my story. Next chapter, Steps in Flight, is where hell starts to break loose.  

Read and Review!

PS. Dragon Con kicked mucheth asseth. Thank you all for being so patient with me as I partied hearty. Arigato Gozaimasu!


	8. Steps in Flight

Amaranth   

By Aycelcus

Rating: R (for violence and sexual situations in later chapters)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha, its characters or likenesses. I am borrowing them for just a little while. Also, I do not own the Landers and any related characters. They belong to my best friend. I do own Cillara, her likeness and all things that pertain to her character. AKA: Don't own; don't sue.

Author's Note: Here is Chapter Eight for all you who have been waiting. Wave if you are out there. Reviews would be nice too. And Josh, now you can stop nagging me about the next chapter. And I am aware that the names in this chapter are boring and common, but the god didn't even have a name before. He was just kind of amorphous in my brain. Perhaps one of you has a better name that I could give him, his secret name that will be uttered later. Come on, submit them. I dare you. 

Chapter Eight: Steps in Flight

            The moon was in its descent when the winged form gently disengaged from her slumbering lover. Cillara moved silently, becoming shadow itself. A whisper of a kiss fell across Sesshoumaru's brow; so soft and shadow-formed that even had he been awake he would not have been aware of it. Magic was heavy in the air; magic generated by time and darkness kind, and by the heady rush of sex. It allowed her to pass over into the shadow-realm, however slightly. She could not yet pass between the veil of the worlds.

            "I am sorry," she whispered against his skin in her old, molten silver words. Her fingertips tingled slightly; she could feel the retreat of the amaranth and knew that even if she stayed, things would become difficult. _I took advantage of him through the amaranth, for my own comforting. That was dishonorable of me. But she knew, with a certainty deep in her marrow that she would only do the same if given another chance. A man like Sesshoumaru was always so damned attractive to her. A man like Sesshoumaru engaged her emotions with such ease. __Sesshoumaru engaged her emotions with such ease. And that made her so very dangerous to him. She could still feel the presence against her awareness. It slid across her senses, thick and oily, a molding, fetid smell that invaded her mental nostrils and set a panicky fear fluttering in her belly. He is here, a voice warned. He is here and if he realizes that you care for anything of this world, he will destroy it as to destroy you. And she knew that the voice spoke truth, so she stopped at the edge of the shadows and gathered what she could about her, old armor and ancient weapons drawn from a hidden cache in the shadow-realm. The effort left her shaking. She knew as well that the weapons and armor would be useless against that which stalked her, but habits old hold heavy sway against even the most flexible of souls. Then she walked out of the fortress and down into the forest deep, a sacrifice to draw old dangers away._

            Sesshoumaru could not honestly tell if asked later what woke him that night. Perhaps it was some small sound, out of place and clanging warning bells in his mind. Maybe it was too dark, the unnatural shadow-magic clinging and turning the solarium to moon-dark. Perhaps it was simply the unfamiliar tug as his soul. He would say that such useless rambling did not matter; what mattered was that he did wake, mind uncluttered by purple and blood pumping through his veins in alarm.

            He realized several things in an instant. He knew that he was bound to Cillara; he could taste her blood on his tongue and feel the answering throb at his neck and his groin. He knew that whatever spell had held him had faded as if it was never there. He also knew that Cillara had fled; her soul was pulling him towards the west in urgent panic and fury.

            At once he was filled with an answering fury. She had manipulated him. For whatever reason, she had manipulated him with her spells and her body and her vulnerability. But she didn't know what she was doing, and now she belonged to hi, whether she wished it or not. And Sesshoumaru never gives up that which is his.

            He growled and followed his missing prize into the night, intending to throttle her for doing such a stupid, stupid thing. Then he would sink back into her. He was Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands, damnit, and she would be reminded of that over and over again until he was sure she would never run again.

            He caught her scent quickly in the forest, laced so heavily with fear that it did not smell like her for a moment. Then another odor assaulted his nose, one warm and rotting. Someone was with her, stalking her even as he was.

            He was swift, so swift that Cillara did not even feel him enter the forest hollow until his cold hand slid along her neck. He grasped it gently, almost fondly, and squeezed.

            "Well, well, well," came his voice in her ear. She sobbed inwardly at the sound of it, the horrid feel of it breathing all the way down into her brain. "If it isn't the little avatar, awake and alive. How long," and his fingers at her throat gripped tighter while his other hand slimed across her body. "—I have hunted you. You, beloved of she who dared to defy me."

            "Chaos!" She gasped against the ever-tightening circle of his hand.

            The hand that had glided across her breast suddenly clamped down, crushing the fragile flesh and making her cry out in pain. "LORD Chaos, little avatar. God of Anarchy, Bringer of Entropy, Destroyer of Order."

            "You speak as if such lofty titles should mean something." Cillara snarled back as her lips turned faintly blue.

            Chaos, god of anarchy and bringer of entropy, growled and shook her harshly. "Disgusting mortal upstart. Just like Lucifer. You have been given far too much power and do not remember your place. You should have accepted your fate and died like you Goddess and her disgusting mortals.

            "But she defies me even unto death. Such trouble I have taken to find you, for you are last of the retributions I have taken against her. And here I find that she has made you immortal, like Lucifer. Tsk. Troublesome bitch. She tried so hard to keep her little world alive, but she was old and outdated, and each little termite on that nasty little rock she called her own should had been squashed into oblivion millennia ago. But never mind that now. I have accomplished my task and you, you—" and he paused.

            "I see you have been busy, little avatar."

            Cillara sobbed then, as she saw Sesshoumaru's form in the darkness. Chaos went on. "Such nice little bonds you have made with this mortal realm, my dear. You even have a mate! My, my, my, I can still smell your animal rutting."

            A growl issued from Sesshoumaru then, and she could see his eyes running red and his fur bristling. _No_, she silently pleaded. _Do not__ attack him. You cannot win_. 

            Chaos was pleased and his voice all but purred as he reached down to place his lips on hers. She tried to turn away, and was held strong by his crushing grip on her neck and her breast. "I intend to have much fun with you, little one, to make up for all the time and trouble I have taken to find you. You know what I can do. I shall break you as I break this world, and you shall cry out to me for mercy as yet another planet falls to death and destruction, _all because of you. Plagues shall follow in your footsteps; monsters shall track down all you hold dear. __Your touch shall be as poison—"  _

            Chaos laughed then, and threw her away from him towards Sesshoumaru. She cried out and pulled away before they could touch, ripping away from the youkai's grasping fingers. 

            "Do not touch me!" She screamed. "Do not touch me! I will kill you!" And Sesshoumaru turned on Chaos, his demon side taking over. But even as fast as the youkai lord was, he was too slow for the god as Chaos disappeared, his laughter following in his wake.

            Inu Yasha and Kagome raced toward the woods, Inu Yasha holding his mate on his back like they used to do in the old days. Kagome was all but sick with the waking of her premonition, and the desperate need to reach Cillara and Sesshoumaru was over-riding every other thought she had. They appeared in the hollow to the sound of grating laughter, and to the sight of a half-transformed Sesshoumaru. Cillara was off to the side, tears of blood on her face and bruises at her neck.  Sesshoumaru did not seem to notice them; he turned on Cillara and started forward. She shrank back.

            "Sesshoumaru, no! Do not come near!"

            His voice was strangled and angry. "He touched you. He had his hands on you. _He dared to touch that which is mine!"_

            Her voice became low and strangely inflected. "I belong to no one. I am a plague."

            His voice came again, still angry even as he fought and gained control over his form. "You are mine. You are marked."

            Her voice struck the glade, high and full of tight and painful laughter. "You mean this damn bite on my neck? Figures that I let something stupid like that happen. Oh goddess…"

And she sank down. "I am poison, and he will kill you first." 

            Sesshoumaru moved forward again, his voice still marked by fury, but laced suddenly with incredulousness. "You think that I can be killed by poison? You," and he grabbed her arm before she could jerk away. "You will tell me what that business was. You will tell me, NOW."

            Kagome gasped as she watched; Inu Yasha stood still as a statue. Nothing seemed to make sense. Sesshoumaru's palm began to sizzle where it touched her bare skin, and he looked puzzled for a moment before he collapsed against Cillara, eyes open and glassy. Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands, was dead.

A.N….  don't kill me! It's important to the story!

A.N. Two: Just you wait. Now that the amaranth is gone underground and as soon as this current piece of nasty business is concluded I believe we shall see some spectacular Fluffy vs. Cillara fights. Esp. in chapter 11 or 12 (not sure yet when the instigator who sparks the fireworks off will appear. I suppose we all must be a mite patient. This story seems determined to take its own direction despite the nice little outline in my head. It's as much of a surprise to me as it is to you! Esp. that whole Fluffy-death thing. That was _so_ not planned. But it fit right into my little outline like it was an original part of the plot. Go frelling figure.) 

Also, I decided to add another of the Cillara poems, since amazingly there was once person who not only read the last one, but also reviewed on it. Incredible. So this is for you.

This was written a full year ago, scrawled in my diary (when I remembered to keep one) the night before my aunt's funeral. That may sound awfully weird, but I suppose it sparked my mood. 

_Amethyst and Sand_

_In the hollows where you rested_

_In the shadows where you stand_

_You've built your little nests out_

_Of Amethyst and Sand._

_Through worlds unnumbered you have shifted_

_Those nameless foreign lands_

_'Till your shadows have been lifted_

_Build your castles in the sand._

_There is purple on the ceiling _

_When the local scene disbands_

_And the inner walls are peeling _

_In your shadowed rooms of sand._

_There's a melancholic air_

_In the music of the band_

_You believe it takes you somewhere_

_Down your passages of sand._

_You're always grasping for the power_

_To reach beyond your darkened halls_

_So you build your purple towers_

_And you clamor at the walls,_

_But your castles built of shadow-sand never seem_

_To fall._

Be a responsible reader. Read and Review! 


	9. Lazarus Heart

Amaranth   

By Aycelcus

Rating: R (for violence and sexual situations in later chapters)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha, its characters or likenesses. I am borrowing them for just a little while. Also, I do not own the Landers and any related characters. They belong to my best friend. I do own Cillara, her likeness and all things that pertain to her character. AKA: Don't own; don't sue.

Author's Note:  Gomen, gomen! I know I promised this yesterday, but a whole bunch of stuff at work made me too busy to type this up. I suppose that is what I get for offering myself a deadline, ne? Well, here it is, chapter nine. 

Chapter Nine: Lazarus Heart

            _He is dead. He is dead. He can't be dead. He is dead. Oh Goddess, he is dead._

            A litany was burning through Cillara's mind as she leaned down towards the fallen Sesshoumaru. Her fingers shook on her free hand, for her other arm was still encased in his grasp. The sizzling, sick sound had ceased, and only a slight acrid smell intruded on her senses. She barely noticed Kagome and Inu Yasha standing there in shock. She barely noticed the hitching sob of her own breath as it tried to worm its way past her damaged throat. She barely noticed the way that little, sparking crystals were starting to grow on her skin where it touched his. With trembling fingers she touched Sesshoumaru's face, tracing along the purple markings on his high cheekbones, underneath his sightless, staring eyes. They followed his still-warm skin down to the small spot on his neck, where she had scratched and bitten him without realizing the consequences. 

            Her forearm was growing distinctly warm where his hand still gripped her, become almost burning. It drew her attention away, and she was shocked to see the amaranth encasing then both. She thought, _oh no, please, it's going to take us both. _

            Just before she gave in to the burgeoning fear and started to rip away at the crystal, she felt a jump against her fingertips. A pulse, slow but steady, was beating against the vein in Sesshoumaru's neck. Somehow, he was alive. Somehow the amaranth had extended its spell to him. She understood then, if only deep in her bones, that he was now tied to the amaranth as she was. Sesshoumaru was quite unexpectedly immortal. 

            Somewhere in between the time that Cillara had touched Sesshoumaru and the time she realized that he was not dead, Kagome and Inu Yasha pulled out of their paralysis. They were heading towards the pair, shock and grief on their faces. Cillara knew that, even if Sesshoumaru could not die at her touch, a human and a half-breed would most certainly not be immune. So she stepped away as far as she could, pulling gently at the purple crystals at her wrist. They would break soon, possibly as soon as his poison-damaged blood was fully restored and he awoke. 

            "He's not dead. He's not." She said as they advanced. "But you cannot touch me. He lived through it. Neither of you would. But he is alive." And she sank to the ground and drew her knees up to her chin.

            "What happened?" Kagome asked, her voice small and scared. Inu Yasha was examining his brother, avoiding the crystalline manacle that tied youkai lord to avatar. Cillara was silent for a moment before she answered.

            "_He_ came. He came and he hunted me down."

            "Who came?" Inu Yasha growled. He had not missed the mark on Sesshoumaru's neck, nor the matching scar peeking through Cillara's loose, feathered hair. Kagome hadn't missed it either, as she asserted her miko strength and assessed the damage to her mate's brother.

            "Chaos. The god that destroyed my home."

            "God?" Kagome looked sharply to the winged girl. 

            "Yes, god. Immortal, omnipotent, all-knowing deity. Pick an adjective; it'll apply to one of them. And unfortunately this one is as petty and evil as you can get. He's after me, and now—" she reached over and gently ran her hand along Sesshoumaru's arm. "Now he is after him, and you, and anyone else on this world, just because I am here."

            "What happened to my brother?" 

            "He… made my touch to be as poison. He knew about… what had happened between Sesshoumaru and I. He… gets his kicks from the idea that I'll kill whomever I touch." 

            "If your touch really is poison, then how did Sesshoumaru survive? For a moment, he was dead. I could feel it." Kagome brought her questioning hands over to where the two were joined, and Cillara flinched away.

            "I am immortal. It is part of the spell that holds me. It is written in the amaranth. I was the last spell my lady managed before_ he _tore her essence to shreds. I… somehow I think I bound myself to him, unintentionally. I think the spell now considers him a part of me. Ergo, he is now immortal, too. The amaranth will ensure it."  She shook her wrist gently in emphasis, and tiny little cracks appeared along the edge of the crystal. Sesshoumaru groaned a little, unconsciousness fading slowly as the amaranth finished its task and prepared to shatter.  

            Kagome touched her own neck near the collarbone, pulling away her kimono; a small scar rested there in quiet proof. "You are mated to him. I figured that it might happen; you two have such a gravitation towards each other. The bite mark is how the youkai bind themselves."

            As this moment, Sesshoumaru opened his eyes. The crystal at his fingers pinged softly, and then disintegrated, like Cillara's awaking in miniature. 

            Sesshoumaru opened his eyes to the sight of the forest canopy overhead, and his brother and Kagome crouched over him in concern. He moved his head slightly and could see Cillara crouched on the ground. She was as far from him as she could be; his fingers still gripped her slender arm, covered in winking dust. There was no searing pain, no burning of his palm that brought a black haze to his vision. There was only an odd sense of rushing, like a river through his veins. He could smell lavender. 

            Inu Yasha straightened as Sesshoumaru stared at Cillara.

            "We probably should go back to the castle. We need to have a look at your injuries, as well, Cillara."

            Kagome was prompting Sesshoumaru to stand. He did so without difficulty, pulling Cillara with him. He found that he still did not want to let go of her. The others avoided her touch, and he soon was supporting her as they walked back to the castle. He felt fine, if a little confused. She looked closer to death than he. Her neck was terribly bruised, and he grew angry as the memory of how she had gotten that way came back to him. 

            Inu Yasha and Kagome both tried to tend to Cillara and him when they reached the castle, tittering about as she protested.

            "I will take care of her," Sesshoumaru said, all the force of his authority backing him up. "You should go check on the pups."

            Kagome turned pale and hurried to the sleeping rooms. Inu Yasha lingered a moment more.

             "I am fine." Sesshoumaru stated, and the Inu Yasha followed his mate up to the children. Meanwhile, Sesshoumaru had questions to ask his new mate, and bruises to tend.

            He said nothing for a long while as he slowly removed her ripped, dirty clothing. She was wearing her armor, and he understood that she had been trying to run away, trying to draw the attentions of that thing away from the castle. Away from him. Such courage was commendable, but she had to understand that she was now his, and that she could not run from becoming the Lady of the Western Lands. Despite the fact that he still wanted to throttle her for ever attempting such a stupid maneuver. 

            He brought a cool, damp cloth up to her bruises. They were already beginning to fade, and he could see the bright amaranth dust in her skin. The latent power there made his fingers tingle, and he was acutely aware that there was dust in his own skin now. Clearly there were several unseen repercussions to mating this confusing, exasperation creature. 

            Finally, he spoke.

            "I died."

            She said nothing, but her eyes told him the truth.

            "That creature was hunting you."

            A nod, small and sad.

            "You tried to run away."

            Her mouth tightened, and then she spilled words into the silence she had drawn about herself.

            "I did not want this to happen. I knew he had come. He will destroy this world. He will do it; he already has done it once, twice… I could not say how many times. I have slept for a long time. He could have taken other worlds as easily as he took mine."

            "He will not so easily take this one."

            A bitter laugh. "Yes, he will. He kills gods. Honestly, do you think, Sesshoumaru, that you are a match for a godkiller?"

            Sesshoumaru leaned in closely then, his breath warming Cillara's face. "He will not take what is mine. Youkai Lords will not allow such an abomination to ravage this world."

            Cillara fell silent again. He knew that she did not believe him.

            "You will not run again," he reproached. He ran the cloth gently over her mark. "You are mine, now, despite what spells your lady imposed."

            "I have to fight him. I have to stop him."

            "You will not do so alone. You will not do something so foolish."

            "He will kill you."

            "I am not dead yet. I can feel the dust in me. If you cannot die, then I cannot die. We are bound. That is the way of the youkai."

            "That godkiller doesn't care if you are immortal—"

            His lips silenced her then, a kiss not quite of passion, and not quite of reproach.

            "You will broach no more arguments."

            "You realize I could kin Rin with a touch."

            "Then you will not touch her. I don't expect you to go about placing your hands on others."

            Cillara sighed then, and leaned her head against Sesshoumaru breast. She was surprised when she felt a light chuckle rumble deep in his chest. 

            "I told you that you could not kill this Sesshoumaru with poison."

            Cillara was incredulous. He was joking. He was poking fun at her in the middle of a disaster she had desperately wished never happen again. The first joke she had ever heard from him. She shook her head, and then gave him a wry look. 

            "Well, technically you did die."

            Sesshoumaru simple cocked his head in an arrogant gesture.   

            "I am still alive, aren't I?"

A.N.: Next chapter to be fun. Wonder yet if Cillara has any friends that aren't dead? Well, there are a few, and they have been a-hunting her too. 

Read and review. Just click on that cute little button marked "go." Go on. I live on your reviews. Really.


	10. Friends in High Places

Amaranth   

By Aycelcus

Rating: R (for massive copying and pasting in later chapters. Oh the horrors.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha, its characters _any_ or likenesses. I am borrowing them _one_ for just a little 

_reading _while. Also, I do not _these_ own the Landers and _dumb_ any related characters. They _disclaimers?_

belong to my best friend. I do _raise_ own Cillara, her likeness _your_ and all things that _hands_ pertain to her character _peeps_. Ne?                

Chapter Ten:  Friends in High Places

            Dawn had finally on the long difficult night, and Cillara watched in composed silence as Kagome and Inu Yasha gathered up the twins, Shippou, and Rin. Sesshoumaru had quickly and quietly explained to Rin why she had to go with Inu Yasha and Kagome, and she had acquiesced even thought she hadn't quite understood. She had wanted to hug Cillara goodbye, but had been reprimanded sharply by both Sesshoumaru and Cillara. Tears had pricked at her eyes, but she had held her dignity and let Shippou take her hand to lead her away.

            The air was crisp and chilly; the sun not yet high enough to warm the breezes that cut across the courtyard. Cillara could hear the murmurs between Inu Yasha and his brother; soft plans to deal with the newest threat to their world.

            She felt heavy with guilt as she listened to them, knowing that everything that happened in the coming days, weeks, months, perhaps even years, would be all because of her. She would be responsible. She might have been surprised, had she had time to speak with Kagome frankly about the things which affected a life, how closely her feelings of responsibility mirrored Kagome's own emotions towards the Shikon no Tama.  But she did not have the time. Kagome and Inu Yasha were taking the younglings far away to safety, and were intending to gather old companions against the danger of Chaos. She could overhear a few names being dropped in various levels of respect and derision: Kaede, Miroku, Sango, Kouga, Kohaku. 

            Kagome broke apart from the small group of children and came to stand in from of Cillara. Her body leaned slightly towards Cillara, her fingers twitching. Cillara understood that Kagome wanted to embrace her, to give and take comfort in the simple gesture, and she understood that she had thought better of it. It was a peculiar feeling to be the recipient of such conscious reserve. It made her feel suddenly, acutely lonely.

            Kagome shifted slightly. "We are taking the pups to an old friend who can protect them. We will be back as soon as we can, with help."

            "I wish you wouldn't get involved—" Cillara sighed. Kagome looked miffed at her words.

            "Stop there. You said it yourself. Chaos will destroy the whole world just to get to you. My world. That makes it my right to get involved. Besides," and again her body language spoke of a need to touch. Cillara watched the distance between them with a guarded eye.

            "Besides," Kagome continued, "you are my friend. I never leave my friends hanging."

            At that moment Inu Yasha came up and ushered Kagome away with a quiet apology. Cillara watched impassively as they said their goodbyes and disappeared down the road.

            "I hope you don't regret that decision," she whispered.

            Sesshoumaru saw the last of his extended family leave his fortress grounds and begin their journey to the village by the God Tree and Kagome's time-transcending well. The atmosphere had grown familiar; it was really only a few short years after the fall of Naraku, and Inu Yasha's band shifted back into battle-mode as if the time had never passed, He supposed it was ingrained in them now, the cohesion that flowed between them as the stress mounted. Once they gathered up their old comrades, those stalwart companions that had gravitated to the group by accident or design, then the war against this godkiller` could truly begin.

            Inu Yasha was not the only one who had preparations to make; Sesshoumaru was taking this new threat very seriously. Death tends to have that affect on a person. He and Cillara were to make their own journey. He intended to cultivate support among the other Youkai Lords. A difficult task that was, to make the insular and aloof Council take interest beyond youkai business to the larger world, but Cillara had spoken of plagues and monsters, things that would influence the youkai and the humans alike. Measures to limit damaging affects had to be taken now. If they waited until the signs of atrophy began to cause alarm, it would be too late.

            He turned to Cillara, who was watching the party leave with a guarded expression on her delicate features. He heard her whisper her sad little whisper, and then sigh and twist around to look at him. He thought to himself then just how strange and wild his world had grown, with this little feathered thing pulling him deeper into her web of down and fire. Not for the first time in the last few days has he wondered whether it was truly the spell which had captivated him and bound him to her, or his own attraction to the avatar.

            "I suppose we should go," she said then, and shouldered a worn bag. She was wearing an odd amalgam of her armor and a haori that he suspected she had "borrowed" from him. He said nothing of it, but only because seeing her in his castoffs (far too big for her) was… cute. Not that you'd ever hear it from his lips.

            As they turned to leave, Cillara stole one last glance at the Fortress. Sesshoumaru was keeping an eye on her, intending not to allow her to step from his sight for even the briefest of moments. And so he had full view of Cillara's sudden crouching paleness, her eyes shifting wildly and her hand going to her belt where she had strapped on the most archaic-looking dagger he had ever seen.

            With this alert, he galvanized into action, swiftly snatching her up and behind him so that whatever the threat she had sensed would have to come through him first. _And, he gloated briefly, __he was immortal now._

            His voice came low and harsh as he swung his arm in front of her.

            "What is it you sense? Is it Chaos?"

            "… No. I don't think so… A portal has opened close by―" She crouched behind him, her wings folded tightly against her body and her little dagger glinting in the morning light. "It comes."

            It came swiftly on a rush of white so bright it hurt his eyes. For a moment Sesshoumaru was blinded, his only contact with reality the touch of Cillara's small fingers and the feel of his feet on the ground. He was unprepared, as his vision cleared, for Cillara to suddenly bolt forward with a joyful cry.

            "Sabriel!" she crowed, and fell into the arms of a tall, winged man, who wore grey robes. His hair and feathers were half white, and half black. He was handsome and lithe, and Sesshoumaru instantly hated him.

            The feathered man crushed Cillara to him, tears in his eyes. "Cillara? Oh lady, you are alive! We have been searching for centuries! I have been following your amaranth from―"

            He was cut off as Sesshoumaru tore him away form Cillara, pulling from the neck of his robes and ripping them slightly. Then he curled his arm possessively around Cillara's waist as she stared at him in shock. His message was clear: don't touch my woman.

            Rage flashed across the man's features and twisted them for a moment into something dark and ugly. He opened his mouth to protest, raised his fists to attack, but Cillara beat him to it.

            "Sesshoumaru! Stop it! This is my friend!"

            The only thing that he could think of to say (and as all too often around Cillara he blurted it out without his brain overriding his tongue,) "He touched you. You are mine."

            Cillara sagged for a moment, sheer disbelief written into her posture. The man reached a hand towards her, and Sesshoumaru growled. There was red in his eyes.

            The man sighed, and then raked his hand through his hair. "Interesting friend you have here. I surprised you allow him to treat you like that."

            Cillara looked up from her position enfolded in Sesshoumaru's arm, and lifted a wry eyebrow. "It's a long story," she said, and turned her face up to Sesshoumaru. "Will you please release me for a moment? At least so I can introduce you?"

            He acquiesced only because her hear the warning in her tone. 

            "Thank you. Alright. Sesshoumaru, this is Sabriel, First Rank Seraphim and Head of the Collegium of Avatars. He's an old, old friend. Sabriel, this is Sesshoumaru Lord of the Western Lands."

            "Cillara's mate," he growled low. He had suspicions, and they were confirmed when this `Sabriel' creature narrowed his eyes.

            "Mate?" He echoed. 

            "Yes, Mate." Cillara said with exasperation. "I told you, it's a long story. Now will you two stop posturing? It's really quite… exhausting."

            Sabriel straightened then, and composed himself. "Much has happened," he said softly, more to himself it seemed than to the others in the courtyard. "I've been tracking Chaos as well, and I think he will try to reach you. You need to leave, come back to the Collegium where we can protect you."

            Sesshoumaru started. _Leave? She can't leave!_ His voice rang out in surprise.

            "Cillara is not going any―" but Cillara cut him off.

            "Chaos is here, Sabriel. I'm not going anywhere. I won't let what happened to Geneva happen here. _I won't_." 

Sabriel sighed. 

Sesshoumaru growled.

Cillara looked tired.

Sabriel looked at Sesshoumaru then, his eyes clear and determined. "I need to speak with Cillara alone for a moment. I ask you this man to man. This is old business. I shall return her to you as soon as our words are finished."

Sesshoumaru did not want to let this enigmatic, too-handsome creature to take his Cillara anywhere, but one glace at Cillara and he relented. He could feel in her blood as it thrummed through him, her need to speak with Sabriel. There were old, sad memories in her eyes.

"You get one hour." He said with clipped words, and stalked back to his Fortress, his hand brushing Cillara's face as he went, a reminder and a comfort.

A.N.: Waeee! Sabriel hath cometh. This wasn't the easiest chapter to write, and it stalled in the middle with a vengeance, but once I managed to begin the Sess/Sabriel feud, everything got all better.

Note: Only read this if you don't like character spoilers. I don't know how much of Sabriel I will spill during the course of this story, and I hold the belief that this might make a few things less confusing, but I am giving you the choice to press the "back" button before you read this. But press "go" first and review. I love it when you review. It's like chocolate.

Sabriel: he is actually a seraph from the Christian pantheon. Cillara was human when her life began, and due to her potential (that the lady Irene saw and shamelessly took for her own when she made C her avatar) she was assigned a high-level guardian angel, Sabriel. Sabriel did fall in love with her, but never acted on such emotions. When Cillara left earth, Sabriel took a posting at the Avatar Collegium, an interpantheon University for avatars of all species. Later, he met back up with Cillara when she became an Avatar. They are close friends, but Sabriel is still in love with her (and probably always will be, due to his guardian angel past.) Thus the lovely sparks between Sesshy and Sabriel. This will be fun.  


	11. Speak of the Devil

Amaranth   

By Aycelcus

Rating: R (for massive copying and pasting in later chapters. Oh the horrors.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha, its characters _any_ or likenesses. I am borrowing them _one_ for just a little 

_reading _while. Also, I do not _these_ own the Landers and _dumb_ any related characters. They _disclaimers?_

belong to my best friend. I do _raise_ own Cillara, her likeness _your_ and all things that _hands_ pertain to her character _peeps_. Ne? 

Author's Note: Gomen Nasai, readers. This took a while to write. I had major writer's block. Plus, my life is conspiring to make me busy. School and work are vying for their share of my time, and now I have being published as a comic book writer to deal with, so I'm watching my free time as it's sucked into a black hole of busyness. Buh bye, free time. I'll miss you. On the other hand, I'm getting published. That is good. J 

I'll keep everyone posted. Soon I may be invading your local comic book store. May the lady have mercy on your soul. Bwa ha ha.

Chapter Eleven: To Speak of the Devil  

            Sabriel and Cillara faced each other for a long moment. Not a sound could be heard; it was as if nature itself was holding its breath. Then finally Sabriel shifted and took a drawing breath. 

            "So…"

            Cillara gently cut him off, her voice moving smoothly into the sibilant sounds of the Avatar language.

            "How long, _Jikarei_? How long have I slept under the amaranth?"

            Sabriel sighed. "Six hundred and twenty-three years." Cillara's eyes went wide, and her skin lost a little more of its color.

            "Six-hundred? Oh, Lady…." Sabriel said nothing, for how can anyone atone for six centuries gone? Cillara's golden irises had taken on a faraway look, and she knit her eyebrows before she spoke again.

            "And my friends? Those that I loved? Are they…?"

            "They are well. They were reincarnated together, and kept safe under the watchful eye of the Collegium Avatars."

            "Are they happy? Do they remember anything?"

            "They are as happy as anyone can be during their lifetimes. I do not believe, though, that they have been allowed to regain their memories of Geneva. That would pose some… difficulties, as I'm sure you know."

            Cillara nodded as she passed her hand across her eyes. There was wetness on her skin, and her eyes glistened. "I know, I remember the rules governing reincarnation." Her voice was small, and all of a sudden she dropped into Geneva, a soft prayer whispering into the breeze.

            "_E'ien de'nari_, my friends…"

            Sabriel was speechless. He was torn; he wanted to draw her up into his arms and shield her from her pain, shield her from his pain. But something spoke in her posture, something that echoed the tall, golden-eyed man with the piercing gaze and the odd, odd pelt that draped his shoulder. Sabriel could feel the sudden, blinding flash of jealousy burn through his veins. It was not the first time he had felt such a thing, for every lover she ever took cut him like a knife. Everyone she had ever cared for, every man or woman she had touched in comfort and passion slashed his soul. A million granite laws had vanished when Cillara had become an Avatar, the rules that forbade the communion between angel and mortal had thinned and dissipated as she grew from a woman-child on the brink to an equal, strong as steel and soft as silk. And still was she separated from him by a wall of steel; still was he trapped behind the invisible barrier of "just friends."

            Desperation drove his soul while she lay in the arms of someone else.

            Unable to give her his heart, for she would not accept it beyond what had already been taken, he gave her what little he could. She was still so weak, a mere shadow of what she once was.

            "You are pale, _Jikarei_," he spoke then, and as she stood poised on the balls of her feet like a bird ready to take flight, he pulled gently from within himself. Above his head, a soft golden light began to take shape, until it was a shining circle of fire encircling the space above his brow. He reached up, and carefully took the molten halo from its zenith. 

            "Sabriel—" Cillara stuttered nervously as he brought the halo to her brow, and flinched for a moment as the circle of intensity settled itself upon her crown. The molten gold began to transmute into pure power, and little by little it took on a soft violet hue.

            Sabriel suddenly laughed, and the rolling sound startled Cillara.

            "You turned my halo purple!"

            Cillara scrunched up her nose. "It's not my fault. I've never done that before."

            Sabriel shook his head. "Those other times don't count. This is a gift, lightfingers."

            Cillara stuck her tongue out, and then reached up to touch the band of light. "It's… warm." Then she grasped it firmly, intending to give it back to him. "It's beautiful, but I cannot accept it."

            "Why not? I can always grow another." 

            "But it is your halo, it is your mark from God!"

            "I don't think he'd mind. He always had a soft spot for you, despite the fact that you defected to your Lady. Besides," And his hand grasped hers firmly, and moved it away from her new halo. "You need that energy. You're too thin, and too tired. Take it, please. Take it, and perhaps I won't have to worry so much."

            Cillara sighed, and entwined her fingers in his. "Alright, Jikarei, my old friend. I shall accept your gift." And truthfully it did make her feel better, the combined warmth of the halo's magic restoring her reserves and Sabriel's friendship restoring her faith in her memories. And then, because she was eternally distanced from him in a way she could never quite explain, she stepped back and let her hand fall, so that he had to release her. She turned her gaze to the Fortress, to where Sesshoumaru was surely pacing the halls in green-hued anger.  

            "I should go. He and I, we have much to do, and Sesshoumaru can never really understand such old and painful things. It is unfair of me to stay much longer her with you."

            Sabriel closed his eyes against the old wounds. He could see, in the mage-vision that sprung unbidden on the backs of his eyelids, the band of purple and crimson that bound her soul to the Youkai Lord. Blood and magic entwined them, ran through their veins and cracked in crystal in their skin. 

            "You care for him," he said.

            "Yes," she replied simply.

            "Always the arrogant ones," he teased without heart, familiar words in his dry throat.

            "Always the arrogant ones."

            "You are truly hopeless."

            "As long as there is breath—"

            "—in your body. Utterly hopeless."

            She gave a small smile then, as sudden and bright as his halo in miniature.  

             He sighed. "Well, wherever you are going, I am coming, too. So let's go get your creepy boyfriend and be on our way.

            They turned and began to walk to the Fortress. A few steps later Cillara thwacked Sabriel gently over his bare head.

            "Ow!" 

            "Don't call him creepy."

Sesshoumaru stared at the light playing above his mate's head. Whatever it was, it was unnatural. He growled at the Seraphim. _What did you do to her?_

Cillara looked surprised for a moment as Sesshoumaru bristled and glared, and then giggled. "Oh, the halo. I forgot." She reached up, and tapped at the light, which chimed softly in response. "How do I put this thing away?" she asked Sabriel as Sesshoumaru tentatively reached out to brush his fingers across the halo. He pulled back his fingers quickly, like he was burned. It was warm, but what unnerved him was the pulse of power it held. It was enough to make his fingertips go numb. It reminded him of the amaranth.

"Here," and Sabriel reached up and did _something_, Sesshoumaru could not tell what. The circle of light chimed once more, and then faded down until it touched her shoulders, where it dissipated into her skin. The amaranth crystals embedded there sparked briefly, and then again grew quiescent. 

Once the purple had faded, Cillara looked Sesshoumaru deep in the eyes, holding his gaze. Then, sudden as a rainstorm, she reached up and drew his lips to hers. The kiss was momentary, but the passion was undeniable. It was all he could do not to sweep her away to his chambers. Had Sabriel not been there… but sense returned, and although he kept his arm snug about her waist where it has fallen during the kiss, he pulled back with cool dignity. He did not miss the spark of anger deep in Sabriel's eyes. He felt smug. _She is mine_. 

"We tarry too long," he spoke to break the silence, and Cillara nodded. 

"I am coming along." Sabriel stated.

Sesshoumaru burned at his impudence, but Cillara's soft touch at his side was a gentle reminder.

"Do not impede us, or you shall be forcibly left behind."

"I can live with that."

Sesshoumaru's huge, flying demon dragon was waiting for them outside, and motioned for Cillara to step up onto its neck, but she only shook her head. 

"I think… I think I want to do this right," she said with a small smile, and spread her wings. Sesshoumaru did not bother to ask if she was strong enough. He jumped to the dragon's shoulder as Cillara crouched and took a mighty leap, her wings bearing down on the air and snapping up, bearing down and snapping up, in a low, heavy rhythm. Within moments she was hovering in the air, sweat glistening on her brow and eddies of dust swirling in the cadence of her feathers. The dragon followed her into the wind, and took to the air in tremendous beats. Sabriel, in motions almost anticlimactic in nature, simply floated up, his wings spreading slightly.  Then he followed the lovers as they flew, winged woman and dragon-riding youkai, off to the northwest. 

Somewhere behind him, chaos stalked in his wake.

_Jikarei_: Old Avatar, meaning beloved. Used for friends as opposed to lovers.

_E'ien De'nari_: I wish you well.

A.N.: you might be wondering why Sabriel refers to Cillara as "lightfingers." You may have already guessed. Habitually Cillara, falling into one of her more mischievous moods, tended to take it upon herself to snatch Sabriel's halo whenever she could. Since it was not "gifted" to her, the moment she touched it, it would turn to solid gold and become so heavy that it fell to the floor, where it's sheer weight (far heavier than it looked) would leave a halo-shaped indentation in the floor. Cillara ruined a lot of flooring at the Collegium that way. 

Chapter Twelve: Wolf in Sheep's Clothing should come quickly; I pretty much know what's going to happen. I just need to type it up. 


	12. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Amaranth   

By Aycelcus

Rating: R (for massive copying and pasting in later chapters. Oh the horrors.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha, its characters _any_ or likenesses. I am borrowing them _one_ for just a little 

_reading _while. Also, I do not _these_ own the Landers and _dumb_ any related characters. They _disclaimers?_

belong to my best friend. I do _raise_ own Cillara, her likeness _your_ and all things that _hands_ pertain to her character _peeps_. Ne? 

Author's Note: Gomen Nasai, I know it seems to be taking me longer and longer to update this story, but my life has decided to shift to high gear and consequently I am going slightly insane. Also, since the weather turned, my tendonitis in my wrists has come back with a vengeance, and typing, writing, drawing, etc. is painful. Of course, that's practically all I do, at home, work, and school, so I suppose I'm thrice damned. So here ya go, pain and all. Enjoy!

Chapter Twelve: Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

            They had almost made it to the border of the Northern Lands where the Council of the Youkai Lords would convene when Cillara dropped from the sky. There was no warning; she simply gave a small cry and clamped her hands over her ears. Her wings faltered from their steady beat; she was still not strong enough to pull herself from her stall.

            Sabriel, too, faltered in his flight, his hands going to his head. The pain was intense, and every instinct cried warning. When he looked up, he saw Cillara nose-dive towards the earth, nearly unconscious.

            Sesshoumaru could not begin to describe the sensation that he felt through his mate. It was sharp and throbbing and it raised his hackles. For a moment he was blinded, and then he felt the wind whistle past his ears. His dragon mount was diving at some unconscious command, and as the earth came up to meet him he felt his hand reach out and felt the heaviness of wind and bone and skin. Somehow, Sesshoumaru had managed to catch her, and as his dragon landed heavily, he pulled her against him as they hit the ground. He felt a bone in his shoulder crack as he shielded her from the brunt of the fall.

            A moment later he was up, ignoring his cracked shoulder blade as he crouched over Cillara, who was shaking. He brought his fingers to her face, murmuring the most comforting things he could think of, desperate to ease her pain. He heard Sabriel land heavily beside him, and nearly snapped his head off as the man attempted to get a better look at the fallen Avatar. 

            Sabriel did not try to touch her again, but he offered a reproachful look. "I know what's wrong with her, and I should be able to help."

            Sesshoumaru growled up at Sabriel. "Then what ails her?"

            "It is Chaos. He is near. His sickness endangers her, his gating causes her pain."

            Sesshoumaru did not comment, but he knew then that the angel was right. He remembered what had happened the first time that Cillara had sensed the evil god. Chaos must be near indeed, to cause her such pain.

            Cillara herself was sweating and panting, but she was slowing fighting her way back to consciousness. Both men were surprised when she spoke.

            "He is here." 

            Sesshoumaru growled and swung around, wanting to face Chaos, to kill him, but a hand on his injured shoulder stopped him. Sabriel shook his head.

            "You cannot fight him." And he stood, a glow surrounding him. His robes were slowing becoming solid, cloth changing to armor. Cillara whimpered, and the halo that had melted into her skin grew intensely bright.

            "No, Sabriel. Don't. You can't, not without a halo!"

            "Shhh." He touched her face softly, for just the briefest of moments. He knew Sesshoumaru would not allow more. "You know that this is the only way." He turned to the Youkai Lord. "You need to take her far away. Go to that Council; gather what help you can. I will detain him as I am able. But you must _hurry_. He comes fast."

            "No!" Cillara was trying to pull at Sabriel's robes with her trembling fingers. "No, you can't fight him alone!" Sabriel stepped back, and a sword materialized beside him. 

            "Go!" He yelled at the pair, and Sesshoumaru needed no other prompting. He swept Cillara up wings and all, and leapt to his dragon. She struggled weakly, and he kissed he brow. His dragon took to the air in great and heavy beats of its membranous wings, and he watched as Sabriel grew smaller and smaller. He thought that he could see six wings jutting from the angel's back instead of two, but he couldn't really be sure. Cillara sobbed against his shoulder. Sesshoumaru thought that Sabriel was courageous and foolish, and that it was unlikely the angel would live through the encounter. He hated that Sabriel's death would injure Cillara so, and was satisfied that the other man's sacrifice would effectively nullify his threat to their mating. 

            "Come," he whispered into her hair, his hand tightening around her waist. "Come, my little one, we have far to go." 

            Sabriel stood in his full ceremonial armor, all six wings standing out from his shoulders in testament to his rank. The only thing missing was his halo, his store of power. Only a faint circle surrounded his brow. He had not had time yet to grow another. 

            "Damn" He muttered under his breath, and then took off in the direction of the approaching god.

            Chaos came upon him in a rush of acrid air.

            He did not have time to react, despite his drawn sword and careful senses.  He felt his sword-arm twisted to the breaking point, the long blade dropping from numbed fingers. His head was snapped back and his throat was constricted. A low, dangerous voice breathed in his ear as he cried out in pain.

            "My my my… the little seraph is out to fight the big, bad demon god.  But what is this?" And Sabriel felt a sharp ache at his temples. "No halo. Now where ever could that pesky thing have gone?"

            Sabriel coughed, and then wrenched himself from Chaos's grasp. The god smirked, and watched as the angel tried to catch his breath. Then his face went deathly serious.

            "You gave it to her, didn't you? And after I told you that I wouldn't destroy her, you go and do a stupid hero move like that. Don't you trust me, Sabriel?" He paused for a moment, and then laughed cruelly. "No, I don't suppose you would, would you? But," and he moved in a blink, his eyes boring into Sabriel's as he wrenched the angel's chin around. "You don't have to trust me. You just have to do what I say. Remember, we have an agreement, you and I."

            "I remember," Sabriel spat.

            "Yes, I am sure you do. You bring me Irene's little truant avatar, and you get to have her all to your little lonesome when I am through."

            "You said you wouldn't hurt her!" Sabriel cried.

Chaos smiled. His eyes were cold, and their unnatural fire sparked against Sabriel. "I said I wouldn't destroy her. And I won't. Her precious immortal soul shall be intact. But she shall die, and be reborn as my daughter. And you get her from her very first breath. She shall be devoted to you, as she shall be to me. Let it never be said that I wasted such a useful commodity as the Shadow-Walker."

"No, you can't kill her!"

Fire then, against his skin and against his soul. Fire capable of rending even a god into shadow and shreds. "She is MINE. And you are but a gnat in the scheme of the multi-verse. Your god cannot save you here."

Chaos paused, and the flame touching Sabriel retreated slightly. "Six hundred years have I waited for her to reappear. Six hundred years I have sat upon the ruins of Irene's little world, sat in triumph over the aimless souls of the dead. I will not be denied in this, seraph. If you obey me, if you are a proper little minion, then you will be rewarded for your service. But if you even imagine for one moment that you can betray me then you shall go the way of Irene and all her children. And Cillara shall suffer all the more for it."

All of a sudden Chaos was gone, and only the last remnants of his voice were left to torment Sabriel as he fell to his knees in despair. _"Bring her to me…"_

Author's note: This is shamefully short, and I know this. However, my dog just ATE through the power cord on my laptop, and I have to cut this shorter than I intended. But look at the bright side: I updated! Yatta!

And don't be too pissed at Sabriel, six hundred years have kinda messed him up a little in the brain.


End file.
